


dance with me under the falling skies

by kittychomper



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Childhood Trauma, Derealization sometimes, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Emotional Manipulation, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), I hate canon phil so much, I'm not projecting you are, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Karl deserves the world, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Reincarnation, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Suicidal Ideation, Technoblade Has Braided Hair (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, Update tags as I go, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Schlatt, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit and Phil, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), do i even have a plan for this, i love karl jacobs, karl jacobs is a puppy, karl jacobs time travels, no beta we die like wilbur, philza - Freeform, ranboo you funky man, tubbo is sweetheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittychomper/pseuds/kittychomper
Summary: Time is a continuous and infinite thread, meticulously intertwined by the hands of fate and existence. That is, until a tiny thread snaps and everything comes unwound. Henceforth the creation of timelines; creation of man, love, hate, war, and satisfaction. Every decision, every choice, is a new story with a new conclusion.Modern Reincarnation AU following the SBI. Wilbur-centric. Canon divergence at Doomsday. 10k per chapter. Chapter titles are from Achille Come Down by Gang of Youths. :]]https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/ for information relating to this story, including character relations by chapter, timeline [WIP], and my collection of worthwhile reads.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 57
Kudos: 171





	1. You Crave The Applause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, drugs, and thoughts of suicide. no romantic relationships.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine! This is the first proper time I've made a work instead of small oneshots so bare with me !!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**This day marks the beginning of a new era. I will destroy everything I have ever loved in order to free myself from these binds that hold me down to this earth. I will no longer have earthly desires nor will I sin. This is my repentment for all the wrongdoings I have committed against everyone.**

**It was never meant to be.**

**\- Author, unknown.**

-0-

May 15th, 2002

The sun sprays the land with a soft warm hue, the birds chirped their hearts out, the bees swarm flowers, and fish swim merrily in their pond. No disturbances, no yelling, no screaming; it was a nice day. The clouds never covered the sun, never a dull moment in the day. Nothing could go wrong when the earth had graced everyone with some fresh air.

A light breeze fluttered through the numerous sheets thrown over a wire, creating a cool shadow over the dark green grass. Water sprayed carelessly against the rocks of the small waterfall surrounded by passing deer. Everything was perfect, as anything would if a thin veil of security were blanketed over a seemingly large tragedy.

That summer, Wilbur, a preteen at the time, had broken his right arm after falling into a cluster of boulders. The day he broke his arm, everything was fuzzy, but he knew it was painful, seeing the purple blue bruises and the pale yellow bone sticking out of his skin. Wilbur was alone that day, screaming in pain as the moment was seared into his brain.

Wilbur’s arm never felt right after that, like his arm had these phantom pains or sometimes his arm would seem just a little bit shorter than the left. He had his blue cast signed by one person at the time in scratchy, dry sharpie marker. Of course, Wilbur had asked this other person, who couldn’t bear to look at him. Perhaps, Wilbur thought, he had been jealous of the attention he’d been receiving since his accident.

Just think, having focused on the incident for months that had physically impaired Wilbur, nothing could snap him out of this funk. This despair he was enduring as he questioned that day and what happened; what truly happened. And for a while, the thing that brought Wilbur out of his funk was the broad-spectrum of events. Example, had not for the creation or evolution of man, would he be laying in his bed feeling helpless.

And sometimes, Wilbur had wished man was not created nor evolved. A part of Will, never truly moved on from this, the aching in his bones would never quite disappear from him. In these months that he had been recovering, he could only pray his hand would not forget the feeling of strumming the tuned guitar that sat in a stand, staring at him from across the room. Even through the numbness, he tried moving his fingers in the typical direction of chords. He tried repeating the chords over and over again in his mind, until everything he saw morphed into music notes and the strings.

Perhaps, that’s where Wilbur decided, no matter what, being alone was the most frightful experience he could ever go through. Being alone cost him his thoughts, his voice, and even a part of being alive that he’d never get back. When thinking about this summer, the only image Wilbur could ever make up was the sight of his bone breaking his skin. He was scarred both mentally and physically; the shiny white scar that looked like a galaxy would swallow his right arm only in the worst of nightmares.

Each bone would break one by one, slipping out of his limbs until his skeleton would form in front of him, turning to dust in his hands. Wilbur would desperately reach out for help, before realizing that nobody would hear his screams.

Safe to say, Wilbur was never willingly alone since. In fact, he had gone out of his way to become somewhat of a social butterfly. Someone who reached out to other people instead of slaving over how much time someone spent responding or the way someone moved their body down to a twitch.

By being this person full of energy paved way for Wilbur to not constantly obsess over the skeletons in his closet even with the bones slipping out.

When Wilbur was alone, which happened every so often, he’d spend his time plucking at his guitar, writing down chords in an old battered yellow leather journal, bound by small threads; small threads that held together the slightest bit of patience in Wilbur’ s mind of not acting out or making a scene whenever the bones would start to suffocate him. At times, the strings of the guitar were taunt from his iron grip on the fret board that they would snap. And he would cry, staring at the broken string, alone.

Nothing made sense, nothing made the bones go away, even when his father would reach out and try to sweep away the dust. It was never enough to reach the Wilbur that wanted to make a scene, that wanted to act out that wanted people to see him. See him, not for his broken bone, but for the Wilbur that was simply alone in his own body when his skeleton slithered out leaving him for his closet.

Wilbur was alone even in a crowd of moving people that he knew and cherished, which yes, would say a lot about how he may have ignored the people talking to him. The people who wanted to see him, the ones that wanted to care for him.

So what then? What can he do now that doesn’t make him feel utterly alone in his own skin? He was a ticking time bomb of emotions, namely anger. He can’t… He can’t do anything, except wait. Wait for the day everything spills and his closet doors unlock. The day the skeletons in his closet dance to the music that Wilbur creates.

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**I fear that he what he says is true, and that I will never be the president of _________. That I will be ~~remembered~~ forgotten in history, only remembered as a tyrant ruler. I’ve only ever loved this place, as I was one of the few that fought for the right to be here. I will forever truly be the leader, despite what history will erase. **

**I am the president. I am the president. I am the president. I will always be the president. I will always be the president. I’m not the president-I’m… I’m not the president. Why am I not the president? Did I fail them?**

**I failed them. I failed my country.**

**-Author, unknown.**

**_[Notes: Author was the president of a country, most likely the first. Is it possible three is a new president that has taken power and disliked the author?]_ **

-0-

A long lump of a person laid under the great big black comforter scattered with stars. The morning was fresh with mildew that much was apparent as the windows are ever so slightly cracked open, a thin screen blocking bugs from entering the sweet homestead. Cicadas squealed in the morning light.

The lump groggily stretched his muscles before blearily opening his eyes, squinting at ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the new light. A can of Redbull sat empty at his nightstand, compared to the trash bag full of other various empty drinks. Posters of old singers were taped haphazardly.

 _Bzz._ Wilbur drags his hand over his face and flips over to the other side of the bed. His phone was faced up, the notification screen blinking with new likes or mentions from Twitter. Although, Discord had a sizable number of notifications, Wilbur settled on clearing Twitter first.

Wilbur exhales through his nose as a laugh, and his lips curl up into a half smile. He shifts up in his bed, the blanket draping over bent knees. As a geography nut, news such as “A New Ruin Has Been Found! Click here!” was interesting so of course he’d click. An article, uploaded 11 hours ago by an unlicensed unauthenticated user, detailed a new ruin site. Wilbur rubs his eyes and yawns.

Turning off his phone, he flips his feet over his bed and fixes his shirt. He nonchalantly throws the blanket that was slowly slipping off, piled back onto the bed. His alarm clock reads 11:54 am. Wil grabs a pullover hoodie and puts it on, cracking some bones in the process.

Wilbur opens the door from his room and walks gently over the floorboards toward the kitchen. The smell of newly made pancakes wafted though the kitchen, sizzling bacon slipped on the pan, and the toaster shot up some bread. There he was, Technoblade, his brother.

Technoblade barely acknowledges Wilbur as he flips a pancake onto the plate. He grabs he a fork and knife and slides it on the kitchen counter. Wilbur sits down at the stool nodding at Technoblade.

While yes, Technoblade and Wilbur were twins; they didn’t look all too similar. Technoblade had long pink hair that draped down to the middle of his back. Normally, he wears it up in a low ponytail or he braids it down to his left. Wilbur had curly brown hair that only touched the nape of his neck slightly while his hair covered his eyes. For Wilbur, he usually dons a beanie.

The two brothers were close when they were younger, both used to have brown hair. They were inseparable and in fact they got along well. Sometimes the two would play “Which One Was Who?” game, which may or may not have caused some emotional disturbance in their dad when he couldn’t tell. Sometime after Wilbur’s accident, they fell apart at the seams like the tight threads were snipped.

“Glad to see you home,” Wilbur mumbled, cutting his pancake in half with a fork. Wilbur sat, his head in his propped up right arm whilst Technoblade slaved away making another stack of pancakes and plopping bacon onto a plate coved in paper towel. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Technoblade, despite his profound laziness, works on Saturdays in order to get some quick cash. His regular job takes him out of the country as a researcher in language and culture. He was set to return to home in two weeks, however here he was, making pancakes and bacon for Wilbur.

“New job in America. They expect me to leave in a few days.” Technoblade wasn’t a scenic route kind of guy, straight to point and down to earth. When they were kids, they were separated for a while, Technoblade in America while Wilbur stayed in London. As a result, Technoblade has an American accent, whilst Wilbur has a British accent.

“Got it.” Wilbur takes a bite of the pancakes and munches on bacon. Technoblade turns around, his apron slightly waving in the slow wind coming in from the open window. Work would often get in the way of honestly having a face-to-face conversation that didn’t end with some sort of fight.

A sort of tension was always between the two, like words didn’t work and there was a certain extent of resentment. From time to time, will Wilbur think about if this is how brothers are; how they’re supposed to act? Is this just how brothers are or are they both just emotionally constipated.

Wilbur swallowed a lump in this throat. “Did you hear about these new ruins? They look pretty cool.” Technoblade, not in any sort of shock, nods. Wilbur’s eyes widen and he nods along too.

“I’m investigating the site. I’ll be sure to tell you all about it, however I’m sure you’d like to come as well?” Technoblade looks up at Wilbur making eye contact; something they don’t usually do. Wilbur chuckles nervously.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” Wilbur played around with the thought of going to the Americas and visiting a ruins site, an actual ruins site. He’d go insane looking at the ruins for the first time. A civilization that was destroyed or abandoned left to wither at the ticking clock of time. “I’m sure that your work wouldn’t appreciate an extra body.”

“We’re always looking for new people,” Technoblade refuted, “I’m sure a nerd like you would have a field day.” Wilbur rolls his eyes and tosses another piece of bacon in his mouth. This friendly banter was sort of refreshing.

“I’d have to check in with Jack about an extended break, he’s going to hate me if I just don’t show up.” Wilbur waves his fork in the air with a limp wrist. He sticks he sticks his fork in his pancakes and takes another long, drawn out bite.

“’Course,” The speaker, Techno, stood up and grabbed Wilbur’s plate as he finished. Bringing the plate to the sink, Techno speaks. “Don’t mess with my things, I have to bring you to my London office.” To that, Wilbur snorted and wiped off his hands on his pants.

A small smile before “You sound like a rich prick.” Wilbur said, a small hint of a sneer-hid in-between his words. Technoblade shrugged off his words.

“Your room is as filthy as a teenager, at least I have my life together,” Technoblade laughed as Wilbur sputtered out rebuttals. “Just get dressed you pig.”

“Screw you.” Wilbur flipped him off, but headed to the shower anyway, grabbing a towel on the way. His phone buzzes with activity, some from Twitter.

[Mentioned by: KarlJacobs_: I still owe @WilburSoot another Jackbox stream, what do you guys think?] The ungodly number of notifications from various other content creators flooded his entire notification center. Wilbur promptly turned off his phone once more after putting on Do Not Disturb and muted the conversation.

Walking into the bathroom, Wilbur looked over into the shower to notice the shampoo and conditioner were missing. “Techno! Where the fuck is the conditioner and shampoo!” Incoherent yells were contested back. Wilbur sighs, looking into the bathroom cabinets.

“Can’t believe I grew up with this guy.” Wilbur mumbled under this breath, a slightly low hum in the back of his throat. He opened the shower curtains, turning on the shower to where it wasn’t terribly hot or cold. After waiting a few minutes, the shower was ready, so Wilbur put on some music and entered the shower.

Currently, thinking or arguing in the shower is more likely than not talking completely. To let out anger or frustration with someone, to completely own someone at an argument they were never apart of, only to never actually argue since confrontation is scary. But this shower was more spent sitting on the floor letting the water drip down his hair.

Wilbur has always felt that something was missing in his life, that there was supposed to be a greater purpose for his living. And as an Internet personality and content creator, he had many people’s happiness to bear on his shoulders. A large part of him loved to make content and make people happy, however a small part of him felt that he wasn’t worthy of the love and praise-that he’s a total failure of a creator and he’d be responsible for a large percentage of people to be sad. But the truth does, despite him maybe not knowing, is that people care about him not just the content he creates.

A part of Wilbur, that wants to remember a small tune that just slips out his head the moment the main verse, so he thinks, would happen. His words would fail and he would just chuckle as he felt a burning coal in his stomach. And Wilbur felt disappointed in himself for not recalling what it was, like it meant the world to him.

But what, that he can’t remember, would be so important that it would cause him so much emotional distress? Wilbur felt so close to what was missing, yet so far away.

Turning off the shower, and ruffling his hair in a towel, Wilbur sets off to his room to put some proper clothes on. On the way, Wilbur stopped to listen to Technoblade talk on the phone, only for a brief moment.

“Yes, I understand. Yes. Thank you.” Techno hangs up the phone before heaving a sigh and leaning against the wall, his hands weaving through his hair. Wilbur tiptoes to his room before shutting it gently; knowing if he talked to Techno, hell was to come. That was the face of stress.

Wilbur fondly remembers brawling with Techno when they were younger. It was a nice memory, everything was fine, and it was a summer day at a place that had a lot of trees. Probably a summer camp of sorts, one where there was a running river that fluttered with life. Techno won that fight, which may or may not have left quite the bruise on Wilbur.

Looking back on it, it was quite funny as Techno trips on a rock and face planted into the dirt. Wilbur didn’t let go of that for a while, why would he?

By the time he thought about this, he had slipped on a pair of ripped jeans, a short sleeve button-up, his favorite brown jacket as well as a red beanie. Pulling the charger from his extension cord, he stuffed it in his coat pocket. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be out, but in consideration for future Wilbur, he took the charger.

Opening his phone, he opened text messages and messaged Jack.

< Wilbur Soot: Hey Jack, I need an extension of my break, some personal matters came up and I’m headed to the Americas. I hope this doesn’t affect you too bad, super sorry. I’ll double my work time when everything is better. :)

> Jack (Boss): Yes, you can have an extension, however I expect a lot from you when you get back. Hope everything is well, have fun in the Americas.

< Wilbur Soot: Thank you.

Opening his door, Wilbur slipped his phone in his pocket before grabbing his keys as well. Technoblade, the formal guy he was, wore a black overcoat, his hair braided neatly to his side. He wore his glasses and some gloves, completing the get up.

“You’re making me feel underdressed.” Wilbur comments, slipping on gloves of his own. The biggest difference between the two was that Technoblade was more of a traditional dresser, a man whose closet comprised of suits, various white blouses with black and brown trousers, as well as numerous types of shoes. Wilbur preferred to be comfortable, having jeans or sweats with button ups and sweaters, and approximately two pairs of shoes.

“As I should.” Techno chuckles lightly. For a man of his stature, having this sleek outfit like his, the women would be all over this man had not for him to be the massive nervous wreck he is. He panics around women, namely the ones that were pretty, and if anything, they all were pretty. The point is Techno is flustered around women.

“You’re a dick.” Wilbur pulls on his sneakers, glaring at Technoblade from the ground. To that, Techno deeply sighs before opening the apartment door to the hallway. Leaping to his feet, Wilbur quickly follows before locking his apartment door with his keys.

The apartment complex Wilbur lived in wasn’t outrageously rich or poor. The apartment has many flaws; some of the doors didn’t close all the way, a kitchen drawer was broken, and the sink sometimes sputtered. Wilbur worked as a part time streamer as well as a writer for a geographical news outlet. It was a simple life; one Wilbur was quite fond of.

The two brothers shuffled down the staircase into the parking lot, where Technoblade’s car was, a black VOLVO S90. It was far better than Wilbur’s bike, but Wilbur didn’t want to spend money on something he doesn’t need so a bike was the perfect choice for a small-town man he was.

“What’s at your office that you need?” Wilbur slouched into the passenger seat; he pulls out his phone and opens Reddit. The air conditioner in the car spurred to life as the car started, classical music played from the speakers.

Technoblade pulls on sunglasses as the sun was glaring mercilessly into the car windows. “I’m going to show you what I’ve been researching as of late. I’m certain you’d like to see it.” Wilbur raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

“It doesn’t take much for me to be impressed,” Wilbur warns Techno. Techno’s thin lips arched into a small smile.

“You’ll be very impressed with what I have.”

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**I can feel the monsters presence not only in myself, but also around me. I hope that _____ and _____ will kill me in due time, I don’t know how much longer I have before I am consumed in madness. I don’t want to hurt people anymore. Perhaps, it would be easier if I did it myself. A part of me still wants to live. ~~Do I? Do I really?~~**

**Actually, I don’t know if I want to… want to live. I don’t think I deserve to live anymore. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost my family. They don’t deserve a shit person like me nor do I deserve a family like them.**

**This is my fault**

**-Author, unknown**

**_[Notes: Author has depression, it’s seemingly getting worse. Handwriting is scrabbled, however, pressure points in the letters are of the same author. It is possible that this was written at a different place.]_ **

-0-

As the sleek black car pulled into parking lot, Wilbur stared up at sleek industrial steel building, covered in windows that were a one way; nobody could peer inside if they wanted to. The parking lot was partially full, some businessmen walking out of the building with their black suits and suitcases. Wilbur felt like the black sheep.

As they stepped out of the car, Technoblade looked around the parking lot expectantly. Wilbur noticed this but didn’t say anything. His brother has always been somewhat of a cryptic so there’s no need to think anything of it.

They entered a spinning door in order to get inside; the amount of security cameras was slightly unsettling. The building was sleek and finished with a small waterfall built with stone. There was a lobby with a café branched to the side. It felt like a hotel more than an office. Techno scanned his card at the reception, so Wilbur followed in pursuit like his shadow.

Steel signs directed the two up the stairs to the highest level, Wilbur fazed by the amount of work goes into getting to his office. On the multiple floors there were cubicles that buzzed with life. Phones ringing and voices overlapped one another. While another floor was completely made of glass offices, ones where men and women alike were plucking away at a keyboard.

When Wilbur and Technoblade finally reached the top floor, Wilbur was slightly panting, his legs sore. “We’re here.” Technoblade announces. His pulls off his jacket and puts it on a coat hanger.

Technoblade’s office had many bookshelves, so much so that it touches the ceiling. A push ladder was attached, some books on the steps. The carpet was a short trimmed rich velvet color. One of the walls was completely made of windows that peered over London. Techno’s desk, made completely of glazed wood, stood ominously.

“Goddamn.” Wilbur breathes taking in the view by spinning around the office, his feet meticulously avoiding one another. His eyes widen with expansive amount of knowledge this one office has.

The books, full of information that he may not know about, a product of slaving away at a computer for years at a time that a person put their life in soul into. Every part of Wilbur wanted to stay here reading every single book there is.

“Yes, it’s quite impressive,” Technoblade smiled, proud of what he’s accomplished. “However, what I have to show you specifically may impress you more.” Snapping out of his funk, Wilbur walked to Techno’s desk, peering over his shoulder to look at the computer screen.

The article, the one Wilbur saw this morning, was pulled up in Word, some sections highlighted and annotated. Mountains of tabs were open, each detailing a specific aspect of what the ruin has to offer. While Techno had not yet visited the ruin, it seemed he had a quaint understanding of what it could have to offer.

“You’re a monster,” Wilbur laughs airily and to that Technoblade snickers.

“So, I’ve been told. You see, this ruin is unique, as there are no signs of technological advancements, so it’s thought to be old. However, what’s more, is that some of the items are untouched and completely intact, like population disappeared? There are signs of war, so it’s completely possible that everyone had died fighting something or someone.” Technoblade explains as pulls up some photos of the site. Wilbur leaned in, squinting at the computer screen.

“Evidence… of war?” Wilbur asked to no one in particular. Technoblade nodded, pulling up another photo.

“You see this? There were plenty of swords, bows, crossbows, and some axes with stains on them. This could mean either they hunted animals, or they hunted people. Both of which is possible to co-exist with one another. However, there are a striking amount of human bones. How interesting is that?”

Wilbur’s stomach turned at the thought of killing another person. “Do you reckon this place had a name?” Technoblade nods indefinitely.

“There are records that were found in a language nobody knows. That’s why I’m being sent to this job, in order to decipher the writings. I can already imagine the secrets that may be in there,” Technoblade clicks his mouse to another tab, a picture of what looked to be charred bones that glittered ever so slightly. There were fragments of a skull and rib cages. “This is what I will call, Wither bones.”

Wilbur’s entire body froze, his head started to hurt. “Wither bones.”

“Yes, I have had a sample sent to me already and the properties were far different than a normal human bone,” Techno pulled one of the desk drawers pulling out an air sealed package that had a fragment of said bones. “Big corporations are on my ass about how I refuse to disclose them about my findings, RAM Corp namely.”

“This is fucked up,” Technoblade leans back into his chair as Wilbur takes a step back. “How are you calm about this?” Techno turns his head to face Wilbur, who was obviously a little troubled.

“Collecting state secrets is my favorite past time. I’ve been researching Wither bones for 6 months now all over the world, starting in a disclosed location in South America. I studied with a professor there who had been living beside the first findings of the Wither bones. Unfortunately, he passed away due to complications, however I think his death was not natural.”

Techno switched to another tab that had an autopsy report. There was also a rather disturbing photo of the professor’s dead body, a photo where his entire body was covered in dark blemishes like the life had been sucked from his body in those patches.

Wilbur adverted his eyes from the photo to which Technoblade closed the tab for Wilbur’s sake. “Thanks.” Wilbur shakily says as he takes another deep breath.

The autopsy revealed a rather strange cause of death.

_“The Cause of Death: Death by fall. This victim was found at the bottom of a cliff; due to his heart complications he tripped and could not regain footing among the effects of marijuana. Victim has a history of heart problems including heart palpitations, low blood sugar, and weakness in legs, dizziness, and low stamina, among other various illnesses. There are drugs found in his system.”_

“It sounds like heart problems and a drug problem…” Wil furrowed his eyebrows in inquiry. “I think this was an accident, poor man. Techno rubs the bridge of his nose. “He never had any of these problems before he died, he was a perfectly healthy man. I’ve known him for years. He’s never smoked or done any drugs, in fact his cousin had died a drug related death that caused him to never touch any sort of LSD, hallucinogen, steroid, or cannabis. The autopsy is a lie.”

“Why would the autopsy lie?” Wilbur says trying to rationalize everything. While, yes, Wilbur hadn’t doubted the government much as opposed to not trusting it, the thought that an autopsy would lie to the family and friends of a since departed human.

“Simple. The government knows something that the public can’t, and I’m doing everything I can to figure this out. Those ruins are going to be the answer to everything.” Wil hesitantly nodded.

“Well, what if it’s for the better that the public doesn’t know…” Techno shakes his head to Wilbur’s comment.

“Besides the professor there’s been at least 10 other deaths like his. No one needs to die like that just for the government to cover it up with drugs. Here.” Technoblade slips 10 case files, each with a big red “CLOSED” stamped over it. Wilbur flips the first file, another dead body displayed.

_“The Cause of Death: Death by drug overdose. The victim was found in the bathroom with a strange dialect written with blood on the walls. Victim has a history of drug related felonies. The blood is not the victim’s. Scholars are yet to decipher the strange language. See pg. 2 for photos. Cannabis was found in the victim’s body.”_

As for the photos, there was indeed a strange language splattered on the walls in blood. The victim was leaning against the toilet on the floor with blood pooling around their hands. Deathly bruises or blemishes were scattered on the victim’s arms and face. Wilbur flips to the next page were there was a court case transcript.

_“JUDGE GRANT: Are you certain that Mx. Jacobs never did drugs?_

_DAKOTA JACOBS: Marley never did any sort of drugs or cannabis for that matter, I’m sure. The report is lying._

_JUDGE GRANT: There were traces of cannabis in their system; there is no doubt that Mx. Jacobs did indeed do cannabis._

_DAKOTA JACOBS: Marley would never [shout]! I was with them up until they went to the bathroom and…[sobbing] they died! They were completely sober; I would’ve smelled the cannabis!_

_JUDGE GRANT: Miss Jacobs, please leave the room._

_DAKOTA JACOBS: No [shout]! Please, Marley needs justice please [shout]!”_

“I… I don’t know what this means.” Wilbur reads through the report again as Techno taps his pen against the desk.

“With some further investigation from a friend of mine, we learned the coroner and judge was paid off by a government official. Dakota Jacobs tried pressing charges against the coroner, but the coroner was probably silenced.” Technoblade looped his pen through his hands strategically.

“That’s… that’s sus,” Wilbur’s voice cracked, his voice scratchy. “But are you sure this case is connected to Wither bones?” Techno bobs his head up and down.

“The bruises leave a certain footprint that have been found around the cliff where the professor had supposedly tripped. I think there is something that these people have come across that killed them.”

Technoblade slips out another book, one Wilbur hasn’t seen in years. “Why do you have that?” Wilbur’s voice is raised, “That’s Dad’s, what the fuck.”

“He knew something. He must’ve known, there’s so much research in this about the ruins even though the ruins were just discovered. Dad has detailed research about Wither bones, an ancient method of building, and even something to do with Hell.” Techno glides Wilbur the book and opens it to a random page.

On the page were numerous notes in a beautiful but scratchy cursive, Dad’s handwriting for sure.

_“I hope to prove that someday, I can tell the world of my findings. I believe I can prove the existence of another place, for intensive purposes, I have named Hell. There have been numerous sites of death. A person who ventures near these sites may experience bodily failure. Dark blemishes will appear on their body, perhaps burns? However, after a number of tests, it seems like diamond infused with a drug can thwart the affects of the burns.”_

_Wilbur paused in reading to infer that the professor may have stumbled upon a site._

_“May this be a curse from God, but these ‘portals’ of sorts must lead to the depths of Hell. Scattered around in various locations, I believe that these cursed bones must connect into one skeleton that is not human. I am scared that my life is in danger if I research more, but I must know if these events are connected to what I am calling… my past life. For now, I will separate myself from my family in order to keep the boys safe. I hope that someday I will return with answers. I love my family and I’d do anything._

_-Signed, Phil.”_

“Dad… Dad left us… to save us?” Wilbur’s eyes burned. “I thought… we thought Dad didn’t want us anymore.” Technoblade takes deep breaths, letting his head fall against the back of his chair. He nods.

“Yeah, he wasn’t just some sleaze, he was actually sort of a father,” Technoblade smiles bitterly. “I don’t know how Tommy or Tubbo will react to hearing this, however I left a voicemail for them to meet us at the airport with tickets to the United States.”

“Why the fuck would you take them too? They’re 16 for the love of God, they don’t need to be involved in this.” Wilbur yelled, all rationale was lost, and he was pissed. Techno stood up from his desk and faced Wilbur. His face was as cold as stone.

“We’re a family and if Dad left clue for us to find out, we all have to find out together. I hate family reunions as the next one.” Techno sits on his desk, arms crossed. As much as Wilbur hated the fact, Techno was right. He’d have an earful from the teens if Dad was found and they weren’t there to beat his ass.

“This is so messed up.” Wilbur sighs against the wall and sits on the floor, hands on knees. Technoblade looks at the window solemnly, the sun illuminating his figure. He opens a drawer and pulls out a wine bottle and two glasses. He fills the glasses 1/4th way and hands Wilbur a glass.

“To the world being fucked up!” Technoblade raises his glass and Wilbur raises his.

Together, they yelled, “Fuck!”

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**As the demons consume me, I have distanced myself from _____ and _____ among other people. Every day I wish to visit the room where everything will end. I’ve been close to ending it all, however I made a promise to _____ that I wouldn’t. The demons mustn’t break my promises.**

**I don’t know who I am anymore, am I the president of _________ or am I a tyrant to a democratically elected president. Even now, I still think of myself as the right president, but my son… I don’t have a son anymore.**

**I hate myself so much.**

**-Author, unknown**

**_[Notes: Traces of blood were found in the paper. Author has lost an election? Possible, the author’s son was killed or disowned. Is it possible the author thinks their son is dead?]_ **

-0-

_The night was raw and murmured with activity. Where was Wilbur? This is a place… he’d never been? There were tall walls surrounding the area with splashes of yellow… yellow paint? Yellow concrete? Torches were pinned to the walls, brightening the night. There was a merry chant being sung meters away at a campfire surrounded by people in war coats._

_“Wilbur! Wilbur! Look, Tommy balanced three forks on his nose!” A familiar voice shouted. Wilbur turned around to see Tubbo, his little brother excitedly pointing at Tommy, his other brother, who was leaning low against the ground with three forks on his nose. They both wore the same coats with hats at their side. Wilbur looked down before realizing, he too had a coat similar to theirs._

_Wilbur felt his body move forward and start to laugh. Words spilled out that he wasn’t thinking. He wanted to ask “Tubbo? Where am I?” however he couldn’t move his lips the way he sought. They fell into a conversation effortlessly._

_“I can’t believe we won the war against -----!” Tubbo shouted excitedly, although his words were blurry and Wilbur’s mind fizzed. He felt his entire body erupt in pin-prickling pain like his body was decimated into two._

_He felt a foreign object enter his body through his stomach after his vision was warped into a new room, one made of a sort of black stone with chests. Wilbur felt betrayed by… by someone… someone must’ve betrayed him, and he were beyond angry. Something told him that he must’ve died from that, however he had the feeling it was not the end of his life._

_Tears were streaming down his face as someone was talking on a podium of sorts. Someone… someone who looked familiar? Perhaps on TV? Or…? No, he’s never met that person in his life, personally._

“Wilbur… Wilbur… Wake up you dick!”

Groaning awake, Wilbur stirred to life or consciousness some might say. His back ached his brain was foggy with uncertainty. Part of him felt his dream was nice and begged to go back to sleep, however another part screamed the alarm.

“Wilbur go back to sleep if you’re a bitch.” In pursuit of this warm welcome was boisterous loud laughing. Of course, Wilbur knew exactly who was attempting to wake him up. Unfortunately, his little brother, Tommy, has somehow sneaked into his room to raise hell.

“Tommy, fuck off.’ Wilbur breathes out as pulls the blanket over his head. Flash photo. Tommy reels his hand. Flash photo. His hand connects with the back of Wilbur’s head. Flash photo. Tommy is on the ground with Wilbur slapping his face. Flash photo. Tubbo opens the door. Flash photo. Technoblade jumps into the action. Flash photo. Wilbur and Tommy being told off by Techno.

“Sorry Wilbur.” Tommy mumbled; his face curled in disdain for apologizing. His thick British accent made it far more fun as he pronounced “Wilbur” as “Wilbuh” which has always been a “knee slapper” for Techno.

“I’m not very sorry.” Wilbur said flatly, a deadpan expression stared at Techno and Tommy. Tubbo stood off in the doorframe holding in a laugh.

While Technoblade and Wilbur were twins, Tommy born 8 years later, Tubbo was brought into the family by Phil after Tubbo was abandoned on the side of a road. Fortunately, while simultaneously unfortunately, Tubbo never remembered his family, so as far that goes, assimilating into the family was easy. With Tubbo around, Tommy wasn’t as lonely as a kid and had someone to relate to his age. It’s hard to have children with a big age gap, as it’s hard for them to connect and truly feeling like siblings.

In their family, Tommy and Wilbur’s relationship connected the age gaps, and so despite the gap, they were still fairly close. After Tommy and Tubbo decided to live on their own and moved out of the family house, Wilbur got a new apartment where Techno could crash every time he visited London for brief weeks as time.

The family house was eventually taken down due to the residence never selling and it stood in an unfixable condition. Everyone considered it revenge against Phil after he left Techno and Wilbur to take care of Tommy and Tubbo at 15. So, if Phil ever wanted to come back to them, he’d have a rather difficult doing so.

It goes without saying; there was a lot of hatred being pitched at Phil. Family is never easy.

“Hey Wilbur, do you reckon I can take Techno?” Tommy’s face, as expressive as ever, showed actual curiosity; mouth pushed down while his eyebrows were raised. Wilbur sighs, he had rudely wakened up and he’d forgotten all about his dream. He was left with the feeling of betrayal, which, while confusing, wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Tommy stop being an idiot.” Wilbur wiped his hand down his face in exhaustion, his tone ever so sarcastic.

“I’m not being an idiot!” Tommy yelled before Techno punched him in the shoulder. Tommy yelled back incoherent swears back.

“Thin walls!” Tommy rubbed his shoulder and pouted. Tubbo let out an “awe” noise so Tommy glared, feeling slightly babied. While Wilbur and Technoblade’s conversations may be more mature, whenever Tommy was around all that was possible was complete laughter, fights, or sometimes-deep conversations. However, those never got far. The boys are emotionally constipated.

“Tommy you’re an idiot.” Techno tittered, stepping back behind Tubbo heading towards the kitchen.

Tommy sneers, “Fuck you Technoblade!” in rebuttal, to which the sound of Technoblade blowing a raspberry in rebuttal. As a result, more incoherent swears were cursed like a mantra.

“I hate you all,” Wilbur falls back on his bed, closing his eyes. Tubbo sits next to him, the sound of the bed strings coiling causes Wilbur to open one eye to look at Tubbo.

“Hello Tubbo.”

“Hi!” Tubbo waves his hand, smiling with closed eyes. Wilbur laughs through his nose before leaning up. The problem was that Wilbur was far taller than Tubbo, so when he leaned up, he looked down at Tubbo. “Okay well that’s not fair.”

“So… a trip the Americas…” Wilbur murmured. “Are you excited?” Tubbo contemplates for a moment, formulating his words.

“Well, I think I’m being dragged to whole ‘nother continent! Hm state secrets, tasty.” Tubbo’s smile stretched from ear-to-ear and he flipped his hair out of his face with his hand. Wilbur tittered, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Being dragged, yes. State secrets, also maybe yes.” To that, Tubbo awkwardly laughed as Wilbur pulls his blanket to the end of his bed and slaps a poster that was falling off at the corner.

Tubbo turns as well and fixes the corner of another poster, before taking a small fidget toy on Wilbur’s bedside table, “Do you reckon we’ll see the… the president of the United States?”

“No? Probably not,” Wilbur’s voice went higher, not that he was lying. “You’ll get to see some rocks.” He wasn’t lying about that either. In all truth, Wilbur wasn’t lying about seeing rocks. The ruins were supposedly built semi over a mountain with various other rocky areas. But somehow these rocks have gained the attention of his father, so the rocks had to be pretty damn nice.

“Awe man,” Tubbo whines. “We’re seeing rocks and not the president. If I were the president, I’d greet everyone.” There was a hint of sincerity laced in his voice, like he genuinely thought he’d get the time to greet everyone. Yeah, if he was the president of like six people, Wilbur thought to himself.

Wilbur takes the fidget toy from Tubbo, playing with it himself. He was somewhat nervous of finally telling Tubbo all that he’d just learn yesterday. The news there was a lead on his father could be shocking to someone who was 4 around the time. “Have you packed a bag? It may be a while.”

“Yes! I’m a tourist!” Tubbo twinkled with excitement. “I even bought like an actual camera to take pictures with.” Wilbur mused the thought of Tubbo with a fanny pack clicking away at a camera. It was somewhat of a funny thought.

Wilbur stood up and tossed a Redbull can into the trash bag overflowing with other various cans, “A tourist… yeah. You’ll get to see a cool place, I heard that’s the plan.” He straightened his shirt and wiped his mouth, a case of the early morning drizzle.

“Well, that’s nice.” Tubbo offhandedly commented. Wilbur nods his head listlessly as he flipped through his closet pulling out what he thought he’d need for the journey. Mainly comprised of button ups and sweaters, with ripped jeans and regular jeans. Never mind the ungodly amount of beanies this man has.

Wilbur wanted to spill everything to Tubbo, to tell him about Phil, about Techno’s work, and potentially the literal existence of Hell. He was worried about Tubbo and Tommy ever accidentally came across those death sites and was to… the thought made his stomach turn with anxiousness. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he were to fail at parenting the two. It was clear that Technoblade would follow in Phil’s footsteps, a slave to new information. As the black sheep out of the three, Wilbur made it his priority to shield the teens from danger.

Somehow Wilbur felt like it was job made by fate. And if fate made it so that Hell may be real, and his father really wanted to go there, goddamn it he’ll just have to accept it.

So Wilbur settled to only say a fraction of a fraction of what he wanted to say. “Tubbo…” Tubbo looked up at Wilbur from the fidget in his hands, head bowing to the side in enquiry. “Just, stay safe. When we’re in America that is to say.” Tubbo lightly chuckles before nodding.

“That’s quite a stupid thing to say, Wilbur. No way in hell I’m gonna get mugged in America!” Tubbo snickered, but Wilbur wasn’t complaining, getting mugged is a serious problem. And if watching out for getting mugged would put him more on his feet, Wilbur is all for getting mugged. That’s… that’s kind of messed up.

“But hey, watch my back and I’ll watch yours.” Even while he was on a rather humorous note, Tubbo was completely serious. He’d watch Wil’s back even if Wilbur didn’t watch his. That was what set them from parent and child to brothers.

“Yeah. I will.” Wilbur stuffed the last of his clothes into his suitcase. He peered back at Tubbo was looking off into the window, just like Technoblade had just yesterday. Tubbo was indefinitely in the family.

“What do you reckon Big T and Techno are up to?” It was eerily quiet, yes, however given time Tommy could be quiet when he wants. Whereas Tommy came off as an arrogant bastard child, in truth Tommy still was a quiet guy.

Wilbur could go on and on about misunderstood Tommy was, but maybe that was the scriptwriter inside of him just screaming character points. Sometimes Wilbur would forget he’s not writing a book and he can’t write a deep thesis on why Tommy is a ball of trauma due to the happenings of his childhood. Tommy would murder him if he did that. Although the thought of seeing him turn red from anger did bring a smile to his face.

“They’ve probably settled down in the living room.” Tubbo hoisted himself off the bed and onto his feet. He wiped off his pants and put his hand through his hair.

“You’re probably right…” Tubbo walks out of Wilbur’s room leaving him alone. He hesitated, peering back at Wilbur. “Be ready soon, Techno want’s to leave at 1.” Wilbur bobs his head in understanding but didn’t look back at Tubbo. It wasn’t personal.

All of this reuniting and talk of traveling and… state secrets that could get them killed… it all felt not new. If his teen-self could see him now he’d flip a table for sure. Probably spill to the Internet how he’d been evading the police or something. If not that, he would tell his friends right away. Who wouldn’t?

After Technoblade and Wilbur had a drink of wine yesterday, the two scoured the bookshelves for various sources on historical evidence of the Wither bones existence. There were only short reports and research papers. The twins gathered everything they could and took it in a suitcase that is now on the kitchen table. As far as the cause of death for the professor… they concluded that either an object caused a drug-like affect similar to cannabis or he did cannabis. However, the latter seems fairly unlikely. 

There’s so much Wilbur doesn’t know; however, when it comes down to it, Technoblade knows more. Whether it is Techno hasn’t told Wilbur yet or won’t tell Wilbur until he needs to. But at the end of the day, Wilbur has to trust Technoblade. Technoblade was his first friend and at the same time the first friend to leave him.

Wil sighed against his closet door as he stared down the window into the outside. A storm was coming for the world and Wilbur was at the center of it.

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**I’m really scared for _____, I’m noticing bags under his eyes and he’s always got a twitch in his eyes. I hope he’s getting enough sleep as of late. I can’t imagine the kind of stress he is in after having to flee from _________... I really care for him as if he were my own older brother. But… he’s not what’s right for the country right now, as much as I hate to admit it.**

**I just hope that _____ allows for him to come back one day. That’s all I’m hoping right now. It’s all I can. I won’t be the next _______ and he won’t be the next ______, but _____ is making it really hard.**

**I hope everything turns out okay. I can’t lose my family.**

**-Author, unknown.**

**_[Notes: different handwriting than the previous entries, author is noted to have made several spelling errors, fixed in the transcript. Entry had several indents, a product, believed, of wear. It’s possible this note was made in the rain.]_ **

-0-

Traveling to the Americas was easier said then done, when you have two teenagers who have absolutely no knowledge as to why their mysterious older brother had contacted them after years of no communication. Explaining why would be even more difficult. But both the twins knew that it was inevitable that they’d be involved.

And while yes, Wilbur did have to cancel on stream plans in order to go to America, Karl Jacobs agreed to help their homing issues, offering to let them stay at his place as long as they didn’t burn it down. Wilbur undoubtedly will owe Karl a lifetime of thanks. Appropriately, Wilbur does not wish for Karl to get involved in the state secrets, so simply justifying their coming over as “to get a feel of how stupid America was and how the fuck did they win the Revolutionary War” also along the lines of “family business called them there” but either way Karl didn’t question further.

The next day was spent jumping through flights until the family would reach New York, the cesspool of many different types of Americans and some non-Americans. Techno was the only one out of the brothers to ever actually live and engrain American culture in his soul. Whether it’s a good or bad thing… it’s up to you.

Money wasn’t, unpredictably, a problem. Technoblade’s boss had granted them thousands of dollars to spend on flights and any other necessities. When Tommy has heard this, he screamed in pure happiness, “We’re rich! Tubbo we’re rich!” He spent minutes rambling about what they could do. Somewhere in there he talked about guns and Americans which then dissolved into Techno talking about the guns he had at his office. Tommy was in slight shock.

Wilbur had many concerns about Tommy actually seeing a gun and with Technoblade enabling Tommy really pushed a limit. But there is some patience that is needed for a teenager. That’s exactly what made Wil not want to slap the shit out of a child.

America, with all its various levels of corruption, was an interesting place for a couple of British men.

“Awgh what the fuck!” Tommy whines looking at a mountain of people in the subway system that were entering the same train they were headed. “Now this is some bullshit.”

“Tommy… Tommy calm yourself.” Wilbur laments, feeling ever so slightly embarrassed by Tommy screaming in public in America. Unlike London, where it’s more normal to see people cursing, Wilbur had no clue what it was like in America.

“Whatever, bitchboy.” Tommy turns around and walks backwards as he scrunched his face in disapproval. Wil rolled his eyes before flipping Tommy back around to look where he’s walking. Technoblade sighs, his hand covering his face.

Wil slips out his phone from his pocket and unlocks his phone.

< Wilbur Soot: We’ll be there tomorrow

< Karl Jacobs: Pogchamp, can’t wait!

> Wilbur Soot: Thanks again

< Karl Jacobs: Yeah, this totally screws up everything I had planned. You should credit me for singing in your song credits :embarrasedface:

> Wilbur Soot: I’d rather die of guilt.

< Karl Jacobs: :(

> Wilbur Soot: :)

< Karl Jacobs: :(

Wilbur rolls his eyes and glides his phone into his back pocket.

The family opens the door to the subway and gingerly steps in trying to avoid people. Techno and Tommy sat down while Wilbur and Tubbo held a guardrail. People of various types bustled around the bus before the intercoms fuzzed in.

“Welcome to New York America. A guide may be found at the doors for visitors.” The monotone robotic lady’s voice soon tuned out due to the bustle of contrasting conversations among the passengers.

“Tubbo, can you grab a guide right there?” Wilbur asked, having to speak loud in Tubbo’s ear. Tubbo nods and shuffles around a lady, politely apologizing. Reaching out, Tubbo grabs a guide and hands it to Wilbur who nods with a small smile.

“Techno, where’s your office on this map?” Techno grabs the guide, leaning back a bit to get a better look. He waves his finger before planting it a further down the map. Peering over the map, Wilbur turns his head and slowly nods.

Wil scratches his head, “Okay… that’s a few minutes?” Techno chuckles to himself and shakes his head.

“That’ll be 15 minutes.” Techno corrects. Tommy protests whispering a curse under his breath, while Tubbo just sighs, closing his eyes in exhaustion. The two’s posture drops immediately, as if Tommy’s wasn’t already less than horrible.

“I’m tired…” Tubbo’s words grinds on with another deep sigh, so Wilbur pats his back sympathetically. “How long is 15 minutes…?”

“About the time you’d take to reach the beach.” Tommy thinks, tapping his fingers on his legs, a nervous habit of his. Wilbur looks at Tommy’s moving fingers, noting this. Tommy looks up at Wilbur, swallows, and stills his hands.

Tubbo merrily hums. “I think I’d quite still like to see the president.” Wilbur rubs his eyes as Tommy let’s a muddle of words.

“I told him that we wouldn’t see the president.” Wilbur tries to rationalize with Techno as the latter nods sympathetically, understanding teenagers.

Technoblade pulls out two water bottles and hands it to Tommy and Tubbo. They both take long sips as Techno switches places with Tubbo so that Tubbo and can sit down.

“Thanks, Big T!’ Tubbo smiles. He closes his eyes and relaxes into his seat. Tommy yawns a bit and pulls his legs onto the seat. The pink haired brother takes the water bottles and place them back into his bags. He peers up looking at Wilbur who pokes Tommy who doesn’t stir.

“Tommy…?” Wilbur frowns, he looks up at Technoblade who only smiles pitifully.

“Wilbur. I want you to sit down on the floor and cover your head.” Wilbur slowly blinks as his brother stares him down. Wilbur laughs a little bit letting out words of confusion like “what”.

“Technoblade, what did you do to Tommy and Tubbo?”

Techno barely discernibly whispers, “I need them to not see this…” Wilbur almost has to stand up but Techno pushes him down. “Blood for the blood god.” Techno stares intensely into Wilbur’s eyes, a dark shadow cast over his face, his hair draping over his shoulder.

“Is everything okay ma’am?” An old lady taps on Techno’s shoulder. And before anyone knew it, before anyone could-Technoblade, his twin brother had pulled out a fully automated fire machine gun and had raised hell on the subway.

Screams filled the subway as Techno yelled maniacally. Spinning around, jacket twirling in the air. His hair comes undone as he continued to shoot everybody in sight, blood spilling everywhere as lives were taken away. Wilbur started to scream as a young girl had taken cover behind him and Techno had shot her in the head, her body falling onto the walls of the subway. Her face was stone cold with shock, staring at Wilbur as he desperately cradled her in his arms.

Tears streamed down his face and stood up to look at Technoblade, but he had seen the entirely mutilated bodies that were thrown across the room. Technoblade continued to shoot into the remaining train cars; his back faced away from the pile of lifeless disfigured dolls that had family unaware of what had happened to them

“Take this in Wilbur! Remember the bloodshed that day!” Techno shrieks, not pausing in his manslaughter, his shoulders shake from the unloading of bullets. His suit was stained with the blood of many; his hair was so much longer than what Wil can remember. And for what it was worth, Techno didn’t even look human anymore; his ears were long and pinker as if he were part pig. 

“Please stop! Please Techno!” The frightened man screamed at the top of his lungs, words cracking and choking in his throat. Blood was dripping at the top of the walls spilling over Wilbur’s head and choking him out, however whether this actually happened or not is up to a third person.

The blood spilled out in every crevice, the dead stares of bodies staring at Wilbur, begging and screaming in his head, “Why didn’t you save us?” The bodies exploded in a nightmarish way, in a splash of color, or fireworks even. Everything was lucid; colors were not the same and changed every millisecond. Nothing felt real. Nothing. A familiar yet strange feeling erupted in Wilbur’s stomach as if a blade had pierced his stomach, contrary to the lack of blade anywhere. And yet, Wilbur let out a throttling scream as if he had been stabbed.

Despite this, Wilbur sobs helplessly as he drags Tubbo and Tommy’s limp bodies towards the corner of the subway entry, cradling them in his bloodied arms. He tries to block out the screams of now, probably, dead people by pushing his head into his brother’s shoulders. He listens to their heartbeat vulnerably.

“Blood for the blood god!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary : Wilbur is 24 and living in Brighton when he wakes up to his older twin, Technoblade making pancakes. Wilbur is interested in ruins and Technoblade confirms that his work is pulling him to America to investigate the site. Before this, Techno takes Wilbur to his office to show him the research done on "Wither bones" and reveals to Wilbur their father's, Phil, true intentions when he left them when they were teens. In fact, Phil had been researching Wither bones just like Techno had. The next day Tommy and Tubbo, their younger siblings head to America. When they reach America, the family enters a subway where Technoblade drugs Tommy and Tubbo and kills the entire subway, saying a strange phrase, "Blood for the blood god" and wishes for Wilbur to "Remember what happened that day" a day that Wilbur does not remember. The chapter ends with Wilbur passing out protecting the limp bodies of Tommy and Tubbo after experiencing intense emotional trauma after a girl dies in his arms. 
> 
> Section Break Letters: My thought process for the section breaks are simple, they are letters from the past, however names are blurred due to the passing of time which hinders who is writing. A person, unknown, is making notes of the letters including annotations, theories, and short explanations. It is up to the reader to decide who could be writing the entries and who is taking notes. 
> 
> How I plan to move forward: In this universe, there will be similarities with in real life events and changes, example: Wilbur, Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo are a family. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo do stream as does Karl Jacobs (mentioned within this chapter) Technoblade, however, does not stream and he has a job for language and culture that takes him around the world. There will continue to be changes like this where certain important people will have certain career and personality changes(although hopefully I will keep this as canon to the characters as I can) I have no intentions of writing a romantic story line except for Wilbur and Sally that one time -maybe-.


	2. Yet Hate The Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, drugs, and thoughts of suicide.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine! This is the first proper time I've made a work instead of small oneshots so bare with me !!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

-0-

**Technoblade D Gold**

**4/6/2014**

**For ages and ages, has the world revolved around the sun, the center of the universe. The universe, on the contrary is a vast space, the limits not yet reached, nevertheless the sun is the center in the eyes of countless people who have never felt soil different from what Earth has to offer. How are we the center? Why are we so important? Is it because we have made a civilization, social constructs, and technology? And because we’ve dubbed ourselves the center of the purpose of living, are we downplaying the hardships and evolution of other various civilizations not yet “discovered” by us? For what jurisdiction do we have to consider ourselves the center, when to find the center of anything, you must know your limits. For a society like ours, the thought that we are not the best, not the most developed, that there is someone out there who has completed our feats ten times over. How are we supposed to feel knowing our brave accomplishments have only ever been but a flee of a task?**

**The thought is draining, so we push it away. We push it away until we draw our last breath and then we truly realize how insignificant our lives are to what the universe has to cycling through for trillions of years. People aging and dying never knowing what the next day will have to offer; what new invention will be made and how it impacts daily life. And somehow, we’re expected to live with this.**

**Nobody can imagine what technology we could’ve had if someone had done one miniscule thing. Just one. People die everyday just as people are born everyday, destined to enter the cycle forever.**

**Had not for the creation of man, would we have entered this cycle? Had not for the faith that it was in our plans to live, would we have continued for so long?**

**I will not continue this cycle. I will end it.**

-0-

Birds sweep the sky in a burning passion to fly away to lands not yet ventured to. To be a free bird is to not be tethered down to the Earth by a cage or a rope. In many ways, Techno was a bird in a cage bound to world by earthly desires. Should he cut the rope, and then he will be happy soaring through the limitless atmosphere. Technoblade is a caged bird that wants to be happy, that wants to ascend.

In some ways, Techno is at peace in the cage as he i being nurtured to and taken care of. But even a caged bird knows of the world’s skies and yearns. Do not cry for this bird, for the bird will learn of sadness and guilt. This bird has never felt emotions and dislikes what view he’s been shown through a small window. Shatter the glass and break free, tiny bird. Have no fear for the cuts of the glass, for the pain will be over casted by the realization of true happiness. Then, you will feel no pain, no sorrow, and no regrets.

Technoblade is not a bird. He is a fool of a man, the lowest of the low. A pig. When have pigs ever flied? Despite this, Wilbur never left his side, never abandoned him willingly. Even a pig deserved love and care when rolling in mud.

So, maybe that’s why Wilbur sticks by his brother even when tensions are high, or when Techno disappears for months at a time on a job. A lonely guy like Wilbur sticks by the even lonelier guy like Techno.

“Do you reckon we’ll be together forever?” Wilbur, a gapped tooth child laid on the grass with his brother, Techno on a sunny day. There were no clouds hovering over the blissful sun with no chance of rain.

“Maybe.” Techno mumbles. The two wear matching shirts, Wilbur’s with Mickey Mouse and Techno with Donald Duck. Of course, it was a hot day, the sun beating down on the two after spending some time splashing in the pool.

The bushes rustle with activity as a rabbit hurriedly jumps out of the leaves. Wilbur springs to life to look at the rabbit. Unfortunately, the rabbit was injured, its legs were bleeding and it whimpered in pain. Techno crouches by the rabbit and looks to Wilbur, whose eyes were watering.

“Its just a rabbit.” Technoblade glides his gaze to the rabbit while Wilbur gingerly held the dying pet in his small arms. Maybe it was it was his lack of empathy that withheld his own tears, but Techno frankly couldn’t see the point in crying over such a weak animal.

“We have to help it!” Wilbur cries as he gently stroked the dying animal’s feverish head. Phil was nowhere to be seen, away at work. If only there were a miracle that the rabbit could be tended to, but today was not the day.

“We should just kill it.” Techno presses his lips and flips out a small pocketknife that he stole from their Dad’s office. Wilbur’s eyes widen in surprise as he scooches away frantically while still trying to be gentle with the rabbit.

Wilbur screeched in rebuttal, “No! We have to save it!” Wilbur covers the rabbit with his arm in protection. Technoblade falters, but glares, nonetheless.

“It’s going to die.” Techno insists, drawing his blade nearby. Tears drizzled down Wilbur’s face and he stares at Techno in fear for the small creature’s life that was withering away every second wasted.

“I don’t want it to die!” Wilbur demands. Technoblade shakes his head, his eyes cold for a small child. Wilbur was scared, not only of what Technoblade wants to do, but of Technoblade.

Technoblade breaks open Wilbur’s arms with his left hand, before grabbing the rabbit away from Wil. Wil lunged towards Technoblade desperately, reaching for the rabbit. “Let me kill it!” Technoblade protests, now angry.

“No!” Wilbur stands up and slams into Techno who ends up dropping the injured animal on the ground, whimpering. Techno let out a groan, as a new bruise formed on his arm.

“Please, please don’t Techno, please!” Wilbur’s tears dripped down onto to Techno’s face, as Wilbur had landing onto Techno, pinning his wrists against the ground. Techno shakes his head profusely and spits out the same “It’s going to die!”

“I don’t think that’s true!” Wilbur asserts, his throat clogged and face as red as an apple. Wil squeezes Techno’s wrists and digs into his skin in frustration. Technoblade grimaces, and flips Wilbur onto his side, before standing up with small tears at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m killing it.” Technoblade frowns, eyebrows furrowed with a shadow slightly casting over his eyes. Wilbur holds his face in his hands, as his body racks in sobs. Techno walks over to rabbit before quietly ending its small life.

That day, while Wilbur may have forgotten it, was the day that Technoblade saw the blood another living thing that he could touch, that he could feel, that he knew had thoughts. Blood. Blood. Blood on his hands, on his clothes. The pig kills the rabbit.

Despite this, Technoblade yearns for forgiveness. Someone needs to tell him he’s not a monster, that he did the right thing. It’s not his fault the rabbit was injured in the first place and that it’s moral to put it out of its misery. Guilt gnawed at his brain as a child, even Wilbur who couldn’t remember the incident well knew that Techno was somehow different.

The voices in his head were loud and clear the day the rabbit had died. The intrusive thoughts scraped his head every time he talks to someone. _Kill them._ He can’t. Why would he kill his dad? His dad loves him, cares for him. _Stab him with that knife._ That would make his dad sad. He doesn’t want his dad to be upset, plus Wilbur would be upset too. Techno hates it when they’re upset with him.

A small voice in his head slams against his skull every-so-often, telling him the same line over and over again until Techno can’t trust himself around people. “Blood for the blood god.” It shouts. When the voices overwhelm him with lines, phrases, and threats, Techno can’t hear the voice anymore. It’s only but a small whisper during a thunderstorm.

College would always somehow leave him with a fast heartbeat. Maybe it was the public speaking part, his anxiety telling him he’s doing everything wrong and that everyone’s staring at him like he was a complete failure. Then the intrusive thoughts start, like “They hate you, you must kill them” or “Scream now, they can’t hear you, and you have to scream so loud, scream scream scream”

Technoblade was a human through and through. Intrusive thoughts don’t make him a bad person. So why does he feel like one?

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**The day I had my son, my beautiful son, I knew things were looking up. My only regret is that he was born in a time like this. I hope he will forgive me if I mess up. He’s my only son and I know he’s destined for greatness. F____, my child, I will protect you not only until my dying moments, but also in the afterlife. I don’t plan on dying, but I know it is a fate every man endures. Should you fall to a blade before I do, I will know I have failed.**

**I love ____y. I love you. The world is a scary and frightful place that not even I can navigate well. I’ve made many mistakes before, but you will never be a mistake. You are a gift unto me from the stars that glitter in the night sky. Know that when I am not by your side, I am watching over you every step of the way.**

**Once this war I’ve wrongfully waged, will there be peace. You are not only my son; you are my sun.**

**-Author, unknown.**

_[Notes: Paper is thin and high quality. Must’ve been made in an advanced society, far different than previous entries.]_

-0-

_“I hate this guy.” Tommy throws his hands up in the air in resentment as Tubbo agrees and kicks a rock into the lake. Wilbur heaves a sigh and drags his hand over his face._

_“Don’t say that,” Wilbur snaps, glancing up around their surroundings. Nowhere was safe within the walls, even if it was the comforts of their home. “We’ll figure something out, it’ll be okay.”_

_“And if we don’t? What then! I can’t stand around and do nothing.” Tommy crouches and picks at the grass. He takes a flower and twirls it in his hands._

_“I just want to sleep nice.” Tubbo confesses sheepishly. Tommy looks up and glares and his friend. Wilbur agrees and ruffles Tubbo’s hair, pulling him closer to his side for a hug._

_“Me too buddy. Can’t get a break around here.” Wilbur sympathizes. Tommy looks back at the two and grunts, anger seeping from every pore._

_“Then we have to do something about it!” Tommy yells, grabbing a stick and throwing at the walls. The trio watches at the stick connects with the wall and bounces off awkwardly. “I’m sick of waiting! That green bastard can’t keep doing this to us!” He turns around to the two patiently waiting for teen’s anger to subside._

_“Tommy, calm.” Wilbur raises his voice to match the teen’s tone. Tubbo glances to the side and shifts on his feet, however he looks up at Tommy and nods._

_“Yeah Tommy, calm down a bit. I reckon we’ll get the chance to strike him when Wilbur says so.” Tommy looks at his friend and takes a deep breath before finally looking up into Wilbur’s eyes._

_“You better fix this country.”_

_“I promise Tommy, everything will work out for us. We’re a family, we have to stick together.”_

_“I’m counting on you President.”_

_“I know.”_

Blinking awake, Wilbur exhales before shifting his gaze to the side of wherever he was. It wasn’t a familiar place that is for certain. It smelled of caramel apples with cinnamon, a smell he hadn’t felt for a while. The sheets were silky soft like a cloud had fallen from the sky.

Why did he wake up? This was so blissful, no worries, no dreams, no… no… no blood.

Wide eyes and stricken with instant grief, Wilbur sprung up from the bed, his mind racing at miles per hour. Was that real? Did that really happen or was Wilbur dreaming? His eyes frantically started to analyze where he was and who was there, and while he felt worried, his stomach drops at the sight of Tommy.

“Hey! Wilbur!” Tommy grins, handing on the end of Wilbur’s name and dragging it out. The pit in Wilbur’s throat grew increasingly, not allowing for him to speak without choking out a garble of words.

“Hey Tommy,” Wilbur chokes out, coughing into his arm. Tommy hands him a bottle of water in a tall red water bottle think clinks with the sound of ice sloshing within. How considerate.

“Please, calm yourself,” Tommy rolls his eyes, “Have some water.” Wilbur titters at this as he takes a sip of cold water, his throat unclogged. Despite this refreshing drink, Wilbur’s head felt buzzed with activity.

“Thanks,” Wilbur mutters his graciousness as he sets the water bottle on the stand next to the bed. “Where… -Where is everyone?”

The room they were in was no place Wilbur would ever recognize, obviously since he’s in America. While the room was no larger than your average size bedroom, something about it screamed something familiar; something he’d seen, but never been. After closer inspection, Wilbur started to realize where he was.

The door opens and incomes the one, the only, Karl Jacobs. He was dressed in a button up tee that looked like he cut out the carpet of a roller rink and sewed it together, paired with jeans. As always, his face lit up when he saw Wilbur and opened his mouth in excitement, his eyes twinkled.

“Wilbur!” Karl grinned from ear to ear as he imitated their British accents by saying “Wilbah” just like Tommy had but accentuated. Karl was like a puppy, easily excited but sad easily as well even when he really wasn’t. Karl was, in all aspects, the best person to make friends with since he can easily adapt into conversations with people he didn’t know beforehand. He was the pinnacle of a human puppy and everyone loves him for it. There’s no dull day with Mr. Karl Jacobs, everyone can agree.

“Hey Karl.” Wilbur’s smile was evident in his speech. To that, Karl waves and opens his arms, a gesture of his innocent affection. Wilbur flips his legs off the bed as Karl leans down and embraces the aforementioned.

Karl pulls back, looking back at the corner of the room where a stack of various Monsters stood tall. A flash of confusion and slight awe flipped on Wilbur, his eyes widening. Karl breaks out in an uncontrollable laughter.

“That’s my child.” Karl speaks proudly as Tommy sputters out an unintelligible garble.

“What the fuck Karl, that’s gonna kill you!” Wilbur concerns plastered on his face as he stands up picks up a can to look at the nutrient table. As he reads on, the apprehension grows. Wilbur hadn’t actually taken the time to read the nutrient label on a Monster, he had known that it wasn’t the best for you, but the sheer amount of Monster cans Karl has was absurd.

“I’ll be fine!” Karl dismissively waves his hand as he picks up a can and clips it open. He takes a dramatic sip and exhales with a beam. Tommy peers over at the stash and picks up a can, inspecting it with a long face. Wilbur shakes his head and sets the can back.

“No,” Wil says flatly. “Tommy you don’t need a Monster, go grab a Cola or something.”

Tommy whines and sneers at Wilbur. “Why! I can handle it; I’m a man! What the fuck! Wilbur!” Wilbur continues to say no as he shakes his heads and slaps his hand away from the cans.

Karl interjects saying, “I think Tommy’s a man, let him have a can.” He muses his own rhymes afterwards. Wilbur sighs, rubbing his temples as he’s in the presence of two idiots.

“Okay, whatever, fine.” Wilbur gives up and fixes his clothes, peering at his hands… for no particular reason other than signs that blood had been wiped off. He was sure that what happened, happened. And maybe he was so sure that he stares at his clothes. However, he had a new change of clothes, which spoke a million words just with that.

“Where’s Techno?” Wilbur blankly says, interrupting a conversation between the two nimrods. Karl hums in a high-pitched tone and to that Wilbur stares into his eyes with deep intent. Karl coughs and stiffens up, looking alert.

“Techno is…” Karl draws on, “Techno is somewhere ohm… I think he’s out…” Karl furrows his eyebrows, semi-glancing at Tommy who opened his mouth as if he were to speak and closes it.

Wilbur speaks, confused as to why it seemed Karl was withholding something. “Come on, I just need to talk.”

“Yeah…” Tommy drags his words; “Techno is somewhere…” Tommy spoke rather lowly, like he too was keeping a secret. If there was anything about Tommy that Wilbur knew for certain, was that he was a horrible liar. The way his voice was shaky, he’d nervously bite his lip, or tap his fingers. Nevertheless, Wil also knew that Tommy would take a secret to the grave. And so, Wilbur outbreaths and waves his hand as he exits the room in pursuit of his brother.

“Whatever, just don’t drink too much, you’ll get sick.” And with that, Karl and Tommy were left in the room, silently glancing away from each other like they were ashamed that they couldn’t be frank with the latter. After all, Wilbur was honest with them so returning the favor was expected.

But, Wilbur supposes, Tommy and Tubbo are safe as well as Technoblade for that matter. His feelings were mixed, as the details were blurry with memory, and somehow Wilbur still thought of Technoblade dearly. What was that day. It must’ve happened, there’s no possibility it didn’t happen. Technoblade killed an entire subway of people with an automatic. What the hell?

The chance that it was all just a dream was strange. Why would Wilbur dream that, there was no way that could ever happen? It felt so real, but unreal at the same time. The feeling of pain and heartbreak strung his chords all to well, like his chest was just as heavy from when it happened. The feeling of blood dripping down his hands as he stares into the dead girl’s eyes would never leave his soul. Maybe the aftereffects of seeing that just wormed its way into Wilbur’s head, making him hesitant about everything. Yeah, it was just a dream.

He tries shaking off his nerves and clears his throat. That was a dream, but the dream was too real. Wilbur tightly grips his arm over his stomach, feeling it dance in turmoil.

Slipping into he kitchen, seeing his phone plugged in by the window, Wilbur picks it up and quickly clears his notifications. The time was 2:34pm on a Wednesday. Twitter notifications flooded his task bar, so Wilbur deleted Twitter and that was that. Of course, he had a few messages from his Mom, a few from other friends, but namely two messages from a special someone. Technoblade.

< Techno: Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Go to this location.

Ten minutes later, had Techno said:

< Techno: Sorry.

Everything that had been working to convince Wilbur that he just had a realistic dream was pulling away by the threads. His stomach sunk through the floor down to the Earth’s core.

Nonetheless, had Wilbur searched for his coat and wallet, his thoughts neatly tucked away in a corner of his head. Of course, the thoughts weighed his head down. Wilbur grabs his suitcase and flips through the clothes searching for his father’s book. With indefinite rigor had Wilbur promised himself to keep it close to in pursuit of further understanding his father’s actions and thoughts.

Wilbur was not the only one with those aspirations.

With one foot out the door, Wilbur realized that he was not in Brighton and he had no way of understanding the Americas. Karl, oh Karl Jacobs, thy continues to lead thou journey. In other words, Wilbur dragged Karl out and left Tommy to his own.

“Don’t break anything.” Wilbur speaks sternly to the sarcastic teen who sighs and grumbles after he sluggishly stood in the doorframe.

“I’ll try.” Tommy says blankly, face utterly “over it”.

Wilbur squints his eyes and stares down his brother, his words long and threatening. “Tommy…”

The teen stiffens a bit and unwillingly looks up and responds. “I won’t break anything.” Tommy says this sincerely, not out of fear but out of the will to avoid fighting for now as he was tired. Today was an off day for the normally angered teen.

“Thank you.”

“Do you reckon I could…” Tommy thinks for a moment, but his face soon lights up. “I could shoot a gun!”

A silent moment pasted before Karl quietly slips Wilbur keys, most likely to the gun safe and so the latter pockets it. “No.” Wilbur declines.

“What!” Tommy complains, starting to ramble on about why he should be able to shoot a gun, and to each example did Wilbur deny the teenager.

“No, Wilbur-Wilbur please,” Tommy begs, “It’ll be funny I swear, listen.” Wil shakes his head, pursing his lips, to this Tommy’s mouth is tugged down in sadness. In no way did this affect Wilbur as he waves goodbye and yells his farewell to Tubbo despite not knowing if he would hear. But, to no surprise did the older teen yell back his own farewell.

Pouting, Tommy sighs and returns to Karl’s streaming room after flipping the two adults off promptly. “Go screw yourselves!” Karl gives a hoot knowing he had locked his computer so Tommy could not stream from Karl’s Twitch.

“Awgh you bitch!” Seconds later came from the disgruntled Tommy after realizing he could not, indeed, stream.

“You’ll get over it!” Karl hollers, closing the door behind Wilbur and himself, exiting the house. Wilbur coughs into his arm before thanking Karl. “You’re welcome.” A cheesy smile ensues.

Despite the utter lack of knowledge that could ever explain what Wilbur felt was happening to him, whether it be a sort of midlife crisis or the end of the world, either way the feeling of despair only grew inside of Wil’s heart. It was hard-to cope that is.

There were many events in Wilbur’s life that could never be properly explained with words only feelings that were hard to understand. From breaking his arm to even finding out, even when it was not a shock, he could not taste anything. Even at the age of 6 had Wilbur developed anxiety: shocker? But as life moves on, these events get washed out into a sea of memories that are sometimes hard to navigate and tell what happened when. No one expects you to remember something that happened in childhood, but when you remember something to strikingly and you want to confirm that it happened, it falls upon deaf ears.

In other words, Wilbur has second guessed himself since forever. He was always felt there was a double meaning for everything, and he just wanted to know what it was. Wilbur was, in fact, a health nut paired with anxiety. Hypochondriac if you will.

Breaking his arm young was one of the worst things ever and it sticks like him like a scar that won’t heal over correctly. His arm hurts. Oh god its broken again. He must remind himself to calm down a bit and take it slow.

If only he could so when facing the present-day events.

As Wilbur looks out the window of the moving car, after a conversation on weird that American cars were virtually flipped, he pondered how everything will work out and if it will.

There was no guarantee anyone would make it out alive.

~

“Is this the place Techno was talking about? It’s so far away…” Karl heaves a sigh pulling the car into a parking lot where various government officials guard the entrance. At the front gate, there Technoblade stood, talking to another person to which Wilbur felt anxiety bubble in his lungs.

It took two hours to get where they wanted, and on the way, they were stopped multiple times by numerous gates where Wilbur had to verify his identity as well as Karl’s. On brand, Karl always joked with the people asking for his driver’s license and each time the verifier nervously laughed. Technoblade was serious that the government would be heavily involved which made their situation stickier than it needed to be.

The scenery was confusing, a mix of mountains and various woodlands, however a trail had been made from several cars that must have driven to the site. On the way, there was a small burnt and overgrown village with a bell sunk into the grown and houses torn down. Vines draped over the roofs creating a cover for animals such as rabbits. Torn banners were tossed and molded over by the bell and there was a stone circle where a broken statue of a person raising an item, maybe an important sacrificial item. Ditches were laid about as if something had exploded, but the thought that an ancient civilization knew of explosives was frightening.

Karl made a pit stop there for “a potty break” but thirty minutes later did Wilbur find him exploring the ruins. For Karl, being this infatuated with torn buildings like this, something he’d never made known he had an interest in, was weird. He kept telling Wilbur to pick up things and take it to the car, but Wilbur insisted that they would get in trouble.

With compromise, Karl took a torn banner with them in the back of the car for later inspection.

“I’ve named it,” Karl had exclaimed to the sky holding a large stick, “The town that never was!” Wilbur tittered, but continuedly had insisted that they return to the car.

As the two men pulled up to the final gates, Technoblade strolled forward to greet his visitors. While Wilbur opened the car, he swallowed the lump in his throat and greeted his brother.

“Hey Technoblade.” Wilbur speaks lowly, scratching the back of his head and staring at his shoes. Karl on the other hand opened his mouth like the puppy he was and excitedly opened his arms for a hug, however Techno dismissively waves in hand to ignore the offer.

“Wilbur,” Techno says, his voice ever so monotone, “Enjoy the ride?” Tossing his head side to side, Wilbur hums. How do you go about talking to someone who you had a horrible and slightly traumatizing nightmare with, and expect to keep a conversation flowing?

“He’s tired from his long nap,” Karl covers quickly, trying to assure to Technoblade that his brother wasn’t just being rude for no reason. Wilbur silently thanks Karl. “Did you see that town on the way? I named it myself!”

Techno furrows his eyebrows and looks at Karl suspiciously, “I haven’t. I’ll look into it if you’ll show me.” There was not a tint of sarcasm in his voice, which was weird considering the town was right there on the path. Karl looked back at Wilbur in need of support, like Technoblade had finally snapped.

“I don’t know how you didn’t see it Big T.” Wilbur says offhandedly, shifting balance on his feet. He looks up finally meeting eyes with Techno.

Technoblade was dressed, as always, with a long-ironed overcoat with a turtleneck peeking through. A backpack was thrown over his shoulders. He had worn his glasses today, a jeweled glasses chain draped on the legs. His long hair was braided down his back, a few strands pulled out in the front. As Techno had been speaking, it looked like his bottom teeth had gotten bigger, his mouth slightly offput by it, not to mention his pinker complexation. It was not a big change, but the small details matter when seeing someone who’d plague your nightmares.

“There was a ruin,” Wilbur nodded his head, “Karl took a banner from it, it’s in the trunk.” Techno nodded and hummed in agreement.

“Okay, I’ll see to it when we leave. If you’d like Karl you can leave, we’ll be here for the day, drop off your tourist items at the front gate.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.” Karl pressed his lips into a thin line and crossed his arms. Of course, he was being sarcastic in that.

“No, I- “Technoblade tried to assure, clasping his hands together.

“I guess I’ll be leaving then, if you hate me so much!” Karl dragged on “so” and put a pitiful puppy face on. “Oh, I suppose I’m going, no need to worry about me guys I’m just going to cry myself to sleep.” Karl turned around and opened his driver’s side door dramatically. Wilbur grabbed his backpack before shutting his door as well.

“Bye fam!” Karl waved out his window and plugged in his phone to blast music. He pulled out without considering his goods in the back. Wilbur tried yelling for him, but before it could register, Karl was zipping away.

“Damn it Karl.” Technoblade mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, yeah he does that.” Wilbur scratches the back of his head and fumbles out a few steps toward Techno.

Heaving a sigh, Technoblade speaks, “So…” He glances to the side, “Ready to explore?” The atmosphere was thick with intensity that even a saw couldn’t cut through it and it weighed down on the two’s lungs.

“I suppose.” Wilbur cracks his knuckles and his neck, turning to face the gates of the ruins. The ruins that their father could be connected to, to where they could find clues to where he is… or where he was.

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**We won. We did it. We’ve finally broke free from _____... I’m the president. I’ll be the best president for not only my friends but for everyone else. Somewhere in me, I still feel like our victory will not last. A night to myself, a night to my passion… I’m free. I’m free.**

**Maybe, I’ll finally teach _____ how to play the guitar! He’s been dying to know. Oh, I can’t wait. For now, I’ll just have to sleep. The monsters are growling in the middle of the night, and somehow, I’ve come to terms with it.**

**I can’t fix everything, but I’ll fix what I can,**

**-Author, unknown.**

**_[Notes: This entry must be more recent then all the others as it is the same author who lost the presidency; however, this entry talks about becoming the president. What time period had guitars? Are the monsters a metaphor, or is the author referring to animals?]_ **

-0-

The ruins expanded for miles upon miles, with towers built high in the sky to where it could touch the clouds. There looked to be a primary path, a severely broken wooden one. It reached over hills and down into valleys. To describe this place in one word, well, it would be glorious. Glorious in its prime days. What was seen here, was a mess. From a castle that was torn down brick by brick, a house on the water flooded by swamp waters infested with various types of algae and fish, to a torn up black stone castle wall. Types of woods were a plenty even ranging from a strange blue to normal oak. Vines spread throughout the land running up and down old buildings with animals passing through in a frenzy. Bees zoomed through the air to a nest placed in a tree that grew in the middle of a brunt brick house.

“What the hell.” Wilbur breathes out, taking in the beauty of the place. He bends down on his knees to scoop up water that ran down a small spring. It was clear, despite it running down into the muddy waters of the lake.

“The pictures were true.” Technoblade exhales through an open smile. Techno carefully walks around a hole in the path to enter a two-story building that was overfilled with flowers in full bloom. Just entering the doorway, pollen jumped from the petals of blue hydrangeas. A rabbit pounces through the house into a nook under the fallen stairs.

A flower shop. It was a flower shop despite its obvious wear and tear. Hand crafted clay plots held large flowers with small tags connected with thin rope. The ink was scratched off due to the pass of time.

Wilbur steps in gingerly, avoiding the broken floorboards. He makes his way towards a wooden desk and picks up a leather booklet, made of entire weathered leather with small sewed in flowers. Flipping to one page, He carefully reads: “Niki’s and Puffy’s Flower Shop.” In small cursive. Water damage had smeared the ink quite a bit, but the words were clear.

“Techno…” Wilbur awes, looking up at his brother who was crouched down to the floor near a chest. Small flutters of rabbit noises plicked. With careful hands, Techno holds a white bunny with a brown spot over its right eye. He strokes it carefully before gently walking over to Wil to pet it softly.

Wilbur cooed at the rabbit, sticking out his lower lip. “What a baby.” Wilbur says softly as the rabbit clicks back happily. The patting over more rabbit feet draw the duo’s attention towards a family of rabbits staring beadily up at them in wonder.

Technoblade sets the rabbit down and it pounces away with the rest of its brethren. A small outbreath from techno before he peers at the leather book Wilbur held in his hands.

“Niki’s and Puffy’s Flower Shop, huh?” Techno reads out loud to himself, to which Wilbur nods. “This is… this is great.” Techno flips to another page, which reads in a whole dialect that neither knew. Different languages?

_“I made a flower shop Wilbur; I think you should stop by sometime.”_

In pure astonishment Techno scans all the pages, looking through tons of information some of which in English but other of which in a new language. “This is a record of sales.” Technoblade mumbles as Wilbur opens a dusty chest.

The must of the chest steered Wil away as he coughed into his arm and plugged his nose. Peaking over, he saw rotten food molding over a sword and helmet. A rat scuttles away through an eaten through hole in the bottom. “Oh, this is fucking gross.”

“Close the chest then.” says Techno as he too plugs his nose. Pulling his backpack over his shoulder, Techno flips through pockets where he grabs a plastic bag and slips the sales record in before sealing it.

“Can’t imagine how long it’s been since this settlement was in it’s prime…” Wilbur drones on, tapping his fingers against his chin. Technoblade tosses his head in thought and muses on the question.

“Yes, but how did it fail?” Technoblade refutes with another inquiry after wiping leaves off the waterlogged desk. “There could be many reasons for it to die out, but some of these buildings show extreme craftsmanship. Technology for this couldn’t have been later for the 16-1700s. 1800s is pushing it.”

Wilbur exhales through his nose, carefully tip toing around broken floor frame. “I’m interested in names, what kind of name is Puffy?” Techno snorts lowly, slipping a small smile.

“What kind of name is Technoblade?” Technoblade asks, to which Wilbur stops in his tracks and turns around slowly to face his brother.

“What the fuck _is_ your name,” Wilbur opens in his mouth in sudden realization. “Phil was an _idiot_ holy shit.” Wilbur breaks up into laughter, holding his sides with crossed arms. Technoblade groans, dragging his hand over his mouth.

“Shut up,” snaps Technoblade, in a completely lighthearted way. “I’m sure he had some meaning behind it or something…besides Puffy could be a nickname.” Techno shifted on his feet and walked towards the original path.

“Let’s come back to this, I saw more interesting things.” Techno’s feet pattered away with the sound of the floorboards creaking and wet grass squeaking. Not seconds later, Wilbur followed in quick pursuit with a skip in his step.

Besides the flower shop, there was a big disc like structure covered partially in the ground. Glass was shattered and bruised where chests were fallen over and destroyed. A tree grew in the middle of the place, with a bees nest nestled quietly in the large branches. From what Wilbur observed from the safe confines of the outside, this looked like a UFO. Vines fell through the holes in the roof and created shadows, and with shadows comes light. A ray of light beamed through, showing individual dust particles moving in the air.

“Holy hell…” Wilbur mutters under his breath. “This is a real find…” Techno walks towards the UFO shaped build and touches the cold metal and wipes off the dirt and dust covering the small details. The metal twirled with shades of blue, orange, and silver, like it was copper but fused with iron. Looking even closer, you could see where a hammer had shaped the curvature of the metal and had been smelted into plates. Stone was layered behind the outer layer of metal stacked like rocks.

“What kind of people…?” Technoblade wonders out loud. He taps his hand against the metal and watches some stone rocks fallout from the inside, looking to be glazed and fired. There were no circuits within the walls, so it being a real UFO was unlikely; it being UFO referenced is highly likely.

“They’re no cavemen, that’s for sure.” Wilbur titters picking up a dented metal cup with dirt stains.

Techno stepped back to observe the rest of the exterior “I can’t imagine the amount of time that went into this, but supposedly there’s miles of stuff like this. How long did this take them…?” Wilbur shrugged and picked up a bent metal fork and dropped it in his cup. 

“I suppose there could’ve been hundreds of people working rather than one builder. We also have to consider if this settlement used slavery.” Wilbur looked at Technoblade with wide eyes, slightly taken aback by his statement.

“Let’s hope not.” Wilbur tried to keep it as light toned as he could, but the thought of slavery being used was off-putting with how the settlement was secluded from the rest of the world, so colonization by Europeans was somewhat thwarted. It is lucky for this civilization to not be touched by the Eurocentric ideals that confined the world to unrealistic expectations and government failures.

Stationing one foot on a rock, Wilbur leaned on his arm on his knee and gazed at the hill over a few yards, where scattered structures stood leaning and drifting along a small river. Technoblade rendered his camera and took photos up close and far away.

The two did not converse on their way up the broken wooden path, only grunts. However, once the two had made their way up the hill, they looked at each other and then the sight. The path was nestled comfortably between two hills, possibly man made.

A small dip in the hills showed what looked to be a small shopping district with another castle wall on the left side of the path. A small river fluttered with life near the walls. More unusual structures like a ruined white building with signs torn down, three large slashes engraved into it. What the hell made that?

Not to mention the manmade cave within the sides of the hill with vines and leaves draping over it, hiding it in illusion. Wilbur pulled the vines apart like a curtain and peered inside, glancing at every corner. It was a small crater with a stone slab acting like a desk. Water dripped down the ceiling through a fallen ceiling board that could not keep up with the passing of time. Although entirely fallen in, there was a doorway into another room.

“Cute.” Wilbur comments before letting the vines shade the pocket home. As he let the vines fall back, he feels a rush of slight nausea run down his spine.

_“I love this little place; we should come here more often.” A small voice chimed merrily, like birds chirping on a cloudless day. Glittery blue eyes peered up, only the purest of love found within her irises._

_“We should.”_

“We should visit here again.” Wilbur says, absentmindedly. Technoblade looks at his brother and shrugs, not minding another pit stop to a little crevice.

“We can.” Technoblade took off his glasses and rubbed it on his coat before pulling it away to see if the dirt had been wiped off. Satisfied, Techno adjusted his spectacles on his nose and scrutinized some peculiar vines.

“This is red, is it not?” Techno beckoned Wilbur to his side to also examine these bright red vines weaved in with regular green ones. The red dust stained Techno’s gloves, so he brought it closer to his face to smell. Perturbed by the smell, Technoblade coughed.

“Looks red,” Technoblade rolled his eyes and shooed Wilbur away who defensively put up his hands. “You asked!” To that Techno grunted and motioned for Wilbur to open his backpack. “Wait, what do you want?’

“Bag. I’m taking this in for research.” Techno hums, taking the baggie over his shoulder from Wil and snipping it with his pocketknife. Techno grabs his camera and clicked a few times.

“Shouldn’t we be wary of coming across those death sites?” Wilbur whispers sarcastically. “And what kind of researcher smells vine dust, what’s up with that?” Technoblade looks over his shoulder with a deadpan expression.

“What’s my job?” Technoblade stars deep into Wilbur’s eyes. Glancing to the side, Wil shifts uncomfortably.

“Language and culture professor.” Wilbur answers as Technoblade nods his head with a small smile.

“Yes. Language and culture. I also have a minor degree in earth science.”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“What I am saying is, I know what the hell I’m doing.”

 _Oh of course_ , Wilbur thinks as he bites his tongue. Being a brother meant even doubting degrees because of how stupid they sound. Wilbur seriously cannot believe this is the same person who had to ask if an octagon had eight sides.

“Piss off,” Wilbur rumbled, “You’re still an idiot.”

“An idiot with a degree.” Technoblade stands up and brushed off his pants shooting a glare towards his twin, hair whipping in the wind. If Technoblade wasn’t a total dick, maybe he could’ve been a model. Who knows?

Wilbur kicks a rock over the hill and watches it crumble into small rocks. “What time is it?” Technoblade pulls his sleeve up and checks his watch.

“4 on the dot, you’ve been here for 30 minutes.” To that statement, Wilbur felt a blanket of heaviness cover him and he slouches his shoulders as he groans. Slapping the back of his head, Technoblade looks over the hill. Wilbur protests, however, Technoblade just held his head in the palm of his hand as Wilbur bent over from the shock of being hit.

“Listen, perk up. We have a father to find and mystery to solve. You with me Scooby-Doo?” The light of the sun sprays Techno’s cheeks rosy as he stares upon the land that took away their father. He side eyes Wil with a faint smile tracing his fond face.

“I’d rather be Fred, yeah I’d quite like to be Fred.” Wilbur’s mouth tugs at the ends in a sarcastic smile, his eyes glittering brown.

Technoblade looks down and raises his eyebrow, not impressed, “I’m Fred, you’re Scooby.” To that Wilbur looked at him indignantly, breaking the moment they could’ve shared.

“Hell no. If I’m Scooby, you’re Shaggy.” Wilbur protests, knocking off Technoblade’s hand of his head and standing up to his level. 

“I’d rather not continue this argument.”

Wilbur slapped the back of Techno, causing him to stumble on his feet. Technoblade stared back, eyes slanted with murderous intent as Wilbur laughed out, “Just admit you’re Shaggy!”

“No! I’m not Shaggy” Technoblade argues, as Wilbur taps his chin in thought. A light bulb goes off in his brain and makes an “aha!” sound.

“Fine, I’ll be Daphne and you can be Fred.” Wilbur was certainly proud of himself, however his brother could not say the same as he was less impressed by his knowledge of Scooby Doo lore.

“Wilbur, they dated.”

Wilbur’s face drops as if his childhood had been ruined. “But I thought Velma and Daphne…”

“They didn’t.”

Wilbur’s mouth imitates the letter “o” as he stares blankly away from Technoblade’s impending gaze. The two started to squabble over subtexts within Scooby-Doo even delving into how robbed viewers were of fleshing out characters for 5 minutes.

However, this _lovely_ discussion ended when Technoblade finally gave up on talking to Wilbur who was cross with his counterpart.

“I’m done with you.” Technoblade confides exhaustedly, he steps down carefully on the path and takes pictures of the vines. Wilbur groans and skipped down the path and walked along the river shore fixating on anything that looked cool.

A frog jumped on Wilbur’s shoulder and it felt he’d been sent back years, head spinning with indescribable spirals. Feeling was lost like his spirit had been ripped from his living body.

_“Wilbur! Look at this frog I caught!” A familiar face, Tommy, excitedly stepped up to Wilbur cupping his hands together. Wilbur cooed at the frog and ruffled Tommy’s hair._

_“Good job! What’ll you name him?” To that, Tommy hummed while thinking intensely._

_“Clementine!” Tommy concluded as he nodded his head vigorously, proud of himself for coming up with the name. Wilbur exhaled through his mouth as he laughed._

_“You always name every animal you find Clementine, Tommy.” Tommy stops smiling after realizing that what Wilbur had said was true. He pouted and audibly groaned. Wilbur rolls his eyes as he opens Tommy’s hand to release the tree frog._

_Together the two watched as the frog jumped away into a bush. Tommy waves goodbye to his friend and he smiles through his gapped teeth. Wilbur releases a short breath before looking down at the young boy with contentment._

_“You’ll find more Clementines.” Wilbur assures his younger brother who was moping._

_“I want to find a rabbit…” Tommy mutters as he walks away from Wilbur who continued to watch as animals pass through the river, taking sips of the spring water. A deer leans down, before facing Wilbur with big beady eyes._

“Wilbur.” Technoblade calls, snapping Wilbur out of his daze. The frog was gone from his shoulder, but he was left with the feeling of longing for something unreachable in all aspects. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wilbur shakes off the dizziness and returns to Techno’s side.

“Coming!” Wilbur shouts, scratching the back of his head like he was forgetting something.

“I think you’d like to see what I have to show you Wilbur.” Technoblade smiles, beckoning him up the next hill. Each step Wilbur took, he felt that he’d walked the same steps a million times before. Like a pair of feet, Wilbur’s, had calloused over from the same path.

“Techno, when are we leaving…” Wilbur mumbled, however Technoblade couldn’t hear him as it was too quietly said.

“Techno-“ Wilbur stops what he’s saying as he takes the final step and sees the sight of a place so familiar, yet so far away. A place covered in grass and stone, a path leading up to a hole in a small hill with shatter glass panes. The remnants of a home, his old home from a lifetime ago, stood worn and torn.

“Technoblade. What is this place.” Wilbur stammers out, feeling himself panic. It was suddenly too hot to be in his clothes as he frantically looks all over the place. His hair was scratchy, and he was incredibly uncomfortable.

“I’ve decided to call this place… don’t laugh at me now… Manburg. For now, until we know the actual name of course.” Technoblade’s back was facing away from Wilbur as he tapped his finger on his chin in thought.

“I don’t mean to ruin this trip Techno, but I’m not feeling very well.” Wilbur confesses, holding his stomach. Techno look over his shoulder to look at his tired brother. Wilbur breathed through his mouth as he focused on calming himself.

“What’s wrong?” Technoblade steps toward him, holding out his hand in concern.

_“Yeah, I’ll join you in overthrowing him. Only because you’re my brother, so you owe me one.”_

“I think- “

_“Splendid. My country will end in flames.”_

“Wilbur I- “

_“Whatever will end this cycle, Wilbur. I’ve seen what that man has done to you and I’m revolted by thought. Thank our father for this.”_

“This place is familiar.”

_“To be frank, I hate father for how he abandoned us. I don’t believe he was the one to reach out to you about our problems. He left us to take care of Tommy and Tubbo by ourselves when we needed him most. I will never forgive him.”_

_“I understand how you feel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did. He did us good by bringing us together again even if he knew he couldn’t help himself.”_

“I have that feeling too.”

_“Tommy can’t know of our plans; he’d get in the way. God forbid Tubbo finds out. I trust you know the plan for the festival and know to get your items out before they start to look for you. I reckon they’d never forgive you.”_

_“I know. It’s the price I’ll pay to free us.”_

_“I may not live through this; in fact, I don’t plan to. I can’t continue Technoblade, it hurts every day and I only grow worst. The voices in my head are getting loud and unbearable. I won’t be able to live.”_

_“We can find a way to get rid of them, like how father helped me temporarily. There’s a solution, I swear. You must live Wilbur; I can’t lose you too.”_

_“I’m nothing worth keeping around,” A moment of silence, “My sins are towering over me and they’ll come crashing down to suffocate me. I will die.”_

_“Even sinners deserve a kind death. I won’t let you die.”_

_“I hope I do.”_

“Techno,” Wilbur looks around hesitantly, exhaling softly through his mouth, his entire body pulsing. “There’s something wrong with this place.”

“I won’t let anything hurt you.” Techno assures. His eyes wander around, scanning the area. He leads Wilbur to sit down a bench by a cliff in the shade of a great tree.

Wilbur falls into the bench heavily and holds his head in his hands, trying to figure out why he felt this way. While Technoblade stood as Wilbur sat down, there was a sense of protectiveness Techno felt for his younger twin.

_“I failed him, Phil, I failed him!”_

“I understand how you feel.”

“What a touching moment.” Comes a voice, unfamiliar to any of the twins. Technoblade turns his head quickly to face a gentleman wiping down his suit. However, his threat level was lowered when Techno realized he had a beanie on, with only wisps of black hair covering his forehead. A tight blue tie was wrapped around his neck and he also was fashioned with black sunglasses.

“Who the hell are you?” Technoblade inquiries, defensively. The man was taken aback by the hostility. Wilbur stood up to face him, glaring harshly despite his pale complexion.

“I’m Alex,” The man introduced himself, a sly smile reaching from ear to ear. Behind the glasses, was a pair of manipulative eyes, gleaming with opportunity. “I was wondering why two gentlemen were exploring a government facilitated area.”

“I’m Technoblade, I’m a professor in language and culture. I was sent here by my agency, REM to explore these ruins. I have an ID in my pocket.” Techno pulls out his wallet, but Alex signals that he didn’t need to do so.

“No need, I know who you are. I’ve read all about you Technoblade,” Alex’s eyebrow raised in taking a risk, “Can I call you Techno for short? I think that’d be easier for me.” Techno shakes his head and flatly declines.

“Who are you?” Wilbur pressed.

“I told you, I’m Alex! Just a concerned _friend_.” He put an emphasis on “friend”, however he evaded the question that was truly being asked; who sent him?

“Okay my friend Alex, who do you work for?” Techno cracked his knuckles, not be threatening, but because he was nervous. Alex sighs and waves his hand dramatically.

“I’m from a little-known business, you wouldn’t know them… RAM, REM’s sister agency in America. See, I’m fairly certain that RAM had this area covered, so why is a REM agent here, that’s all I’m wondering.” Techno squinted his eyes and adjusted his gloves.

“Well, I was requested by RAM’s Head, so I’m surprised you didn’t know why I was here.” Alex stepped back and laughed under his breath, like Techno was far inferior to him, which whether it be true or not is debatable.

“Yeah, yeah… Schlatt requested you right… well I’m glad, I’ll be happy to bring you boys into the office. It’s quite rude of you to not check in with Schlatt himself, instead you opted for heading right into it huh…” Alex slipped off his shades and pocketed them in his suit, to properly look at Technoblade.

Technoblade remains stone faced. “Yes, well I’d never been one for unnecessary conversations, I’m sure Schlatt would agree.”

Alex’s eyes flickered with annoyance and he chuckles. “Right. Did you not get the memo that Schlatt would be the first to step foot here? It is all under his supervision, so I’m astonished on how you got in! Good on you, really.”

“Thanks, but the memo didn’t come in time, my apologies,” Techno grits out, “Sounds like a system flaw, REM would have never made that mistake.” A rivalry between sister agencies, like the relationship of actual sisters. Wilbur felt like a black sheep in this conversation, obvious tension amongst the two was thick.

Alex licks his lips and breathes in deeply. “I’m going to have to bring you in, Boss would like to hear of this news, in fact he’d have a laugh.”

“You know, I would love to talk to Schlatt, an old friend of mine… but, we have issues to attend to that more dire than just another road trip to a fancy hotel.” Technoblade smiles, that smile that told you to back off immediately otherwise there’d be problems.

“Yeah, here’s the thing. I wasn’t asking,” Alex whistled as the pattering of feet disturb the soft aura of their surroundings. Two men, both tall and wearing suits enter the scene. One of the men, more prominent features that stood out, was a medium haired redhead who wore what looked to be a formal schoolboys hat with gold emblems with an orange tie. If the twins didn’t know better, he looked greatly like a fox, not in the rude sense but in the sense that he was just gorgeous. The second of the two was a short blonde-haired man with chin hair. He, however, wore a white tie with gold thread lacing. He had kind blue eyes that glittered against the sun.

“This is Fundy, and this is Punz. They’ll escort you to the gates where you’ll be picked up. Don’t worry about your car Techno,” Techno faltered when Alex used his nickname, “we have it covered. If you don’t mind, we’ll also take your backpacks.”

Wilbur stared at Fundy, blinking like he knew who he was despite this being the first time they’d ever met. Something about his ambiance was interesting and the way he presented himself, like Wilbur would. Fundy, however, was slightly creeped out by a stranger staring at him with no idea why.

“Dream won’t be happy with this and I’ll make sure Schlatt knows that his company has flaws with communication. That’s detrimental isn’t it…?” Technoblade comments while moving his backpack into his hands.

“This land has a lot of promising leads to the past,” Technoblade went on, motioning his hands to the wide view of the mountain top. The trio follows his hands motions and stares at the sun setting slightly over the landscape. “I hope your men can appreciate the scenery as much I and Wilbur do.” Techno opens the zipper of his backpack and slips out the plastic bags into his other hand that stationed behind his back. Wilbur took the bags and felt for the bench, hid the bags, and continued to gaze at the sun.

Alex talks while looking at the broken castle walls, “I’ll make sure this land is preserved and can be properly examined, don’t you worry.”

Technoblade smiles fondly, “I won’t, knowing it’s in your hands.” Alex laughed to himself and nods taking in the slight praise of the taller man.

“Yes, you can count on me to do what’s right for this land.”

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**I’ve quickly taken note of how much the Vice, ____, is being used by _______. I genuinely believe that ____ could defeat _______ with no skin off his nose. It’s the fact that Mr. Vice is the only who put him in power in the first place but is being tossed like a ragdoll when it comes to business. I sincerely hope ____ will realize this and come to reality. Maybe then it’ll give me the courage to stand up against the tyranny just like long ago with my father. Oh, my father, how I miss him. I know he hates me; I know why. I miss you Dad, and I wish things were simpler that we could finally settle down.**

**I wish for the land to be peaceful, but I’m not leader. It was my father that was the leader, the one who sacrificed alongside, dreadfully so, _____. Why must we shed more blood upon these stained rocks. I just want to relax.**

**For now, I’ll wait in the shadows, waiting for my chance to rise above.**

**-Author, unknown.**

-0-

Bonus Section: a winter night

The frigid air dragged heavily on the sickly teen, wading through the snow, lost and without his shoe. Fatigued and distressed, had he tripped over his feet and did not regain his footing. Tommy could not find it in himself to pull himself together and carry on. The cold stung his body like needles and brain foggy like the clouds. Murmuring softly to himself, a lullaby, an anthem, that kept his heart beating.

“I heard there was a special a place…” was lowly sung and Tommy flipped over on his back to face the stars. He brought his legs closer to himself trying to conserve some sort of heat within this blizzard. The stars glittered above him, flickering like switches.

“Where men could go,” He coughed, “and emancipate…” Tommy’s chest slowly rose and down, breathing out of his mouth with the fog of heat escaping his lips. He curled closer into the jacket he had gotten from Wilbur, his now deceased brother who blew up the very land they fought for. The land he gave up everything for just for peace.

Tommy’s eyes slipped closed before he desperately opens them again. His hair was wet, and he could not feel his ears. The night droned on with small patters of animal activity bringing small life to dismal land. “The brutality and tyranny of their rulers…” How could he ever stand up to Dream, the man who kicked his feet right under him and left him for dead. The man who manipulated him and lied. There was no winning against Dream, there was nothing he could do.

“Well, this place is real,” A smooth voice chimed in. Tommy hadn’t parted his lips, so he assumed the winds were playing tricks on him again. He thought he heard Tubbo calling his name, but he had fallen into a pond and got soaked. The wind whistled as it gained speed and velocity. “You needn’t fret.”

“With Wilbur,” Tommy clutched his jacket in agony, feeling the icy cold envelope his heart, “and Tommy,” Who was Tommy? Tommy was a face lost in the abyss of lives, his sadness tearing his identity apart and stealing his face. “and Tubbo,” The compass was burning in his hands due to frostbite settling in and the metal melting in chilliness. “and Eret.” A traitor who only sought power and money, betrayed his allies and ruined L’Manburg. There were no words for this heinous person.

“A very big,” Tommy chokes out in-between throat scraping coughs, “and not blown up L’Manburg…” He felt his body rise as he slips in between consciousness. It could be the last time he sees the stars so tries to open his eyes. The stars are dull, and the clouds cover the sky. He is alone.

“My L’Manburg,” Tommy gasps, tears running down the side of his face. “My….”

“Your L’Manburg,” Comes the voice once more, monotone as ever. “Sleep, it’ll be okay.” It does not fully register to the teen as he drifts out holding his compass in his hands, burrowed in his oversized coat from his crazed brother. The figure pulls a coat over Tommy; one not wet.

Technoblade carries Tommy the rest of the way, towards a new beginning and new life.

“My L’Manburg…” Across the seas, another traumatized kid would sing from the comforts of his home, clutching his blankets closer and compass near his heart. Engraved in the delicately crafted compass, “Your Tommy” went into a frenzy because Tommy changed.

A parent hums from the window of his home in the land where he took his son’s life. “My L’Manburg.” L’Manburg was made on the rocks covered in blood, and it will forever stain history as the nation that broke men’s hearts.

“My L’Manburg…” The night sings as the animals dance in the night. Spirits laughed and shared stories of their lives. One spirit looked longingly over the land he built with his own hands and heart.

L’Manburg is not a place, it is a state of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Wilbur wakes up in an unfamiliar place, until he realizes that he's reached Karl Jacob's residence, his good friend. He questions himself on whether what he remembers, Technoblade killing a subway of people, was true. he concludes that what he experiences was just a nightmare that felt too real. Technoblade texted Wilbur a location, the address of the ruin site, and Karl and him make their way to it. On the way, Karl and Wilbur stop by an abandoned town that Karl became very interested in. When the two arrive to the site, Technoblade is there waiting. Karl drives away and leaves the two brothers to their own devices. The two examine the sites, coming across "Niki and Puffy's Flower Shop", a UFO inspired home, a hole in the side of a hill, as well as a house inside of another hill. Wilbur starts to feel rushes of strange feelings that left him remembering strange conversations that he never had, which grows worse as they continue to walk around. After a particularly bad flashback, Technoblade and Wilbur were confronted by Alex, a man who claims to work for RAM, the sister agency of REM, Technoblade's work. Alex tells the two that they are to follow him back to RAM headquarters to speak to the Head, Schlatt. Technoblade is cautious and leaves behind the evidence that they collected. Chapter ends with Alex promising that he'll do what's right for the land. 
> 
> Section Break Letters: My thought process for the section breaks are simple, they are letters from the past, however names are blurred due to the passing of time which hinders who is writing. A person, unknown, is making notes of the letters including annotations, theories, and short explanations. It is up to the reader to decide who could be writing the entries and who is taking notes.


	3. Then Miss It, Your Act is a Ruse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, drugs, and thoughts of suicide. no romantic relationships.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine! This is the first proper time I've made a work instead of small oneshots so bare with me !!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

-0-

**Date, Unknown.**

**I was told to start writing letters as a form of therapy or something, but I don’t get it. I’m not a writer or anything, so I don’t know what to do. W____r is looking over at me, so I’m going to pretend I’m writing something at least. I’ll never understand that fellow. _____ said he’d like to keep a library of every important book that gets written here, so he told me to start writing a book or a diary to help him. I don’t think I’ll be submitting a book to his collection, but I’ll help harass people to submit.**

**Well, if I’m not going to show anybody this, I guess I’ll say it here. Or… something.**

**I’m scared. I want to go back to being just a normal teenager living with his family. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m sick of the fighting and the constant fear of death. I’m beyond scared of losing my friends and family. I want to go home.**

**I’ll make sure to burn this so nobody will see it, I can’t let anyone know this. I must be strong okay. Okay.**

**I hope W_l___ is happy.**

**-Author, unknown.**

_[Notes: A teenager in the midst of war, scared to say what he feels. It’s a normal feeling as a child soldier, I suppose. Author must’ve not been able to burn it like they’d said. Perhaps their friend had preserved it?]_

-0-

The rain poured heavily over the deserted land, once flourished with activity. The bees no longer buzzed around, and the birds no longer visited their nest. Cracked eggs had fallen that day, a day like no other.

“What do we do now?” A figure whispers to himself holding himself close within the comforts of his arms. A torn and battered flag waved in the distance, a cloth of the past. Home had never been so far away in time.

“We do what we can.” Comes another person, stepping up to meet his hand upon the former’s shoulder. Peering back with a ruminant smile, he nods slightly.

“You reckon we could even begin to fix this?” Tommy shuts his eyes closed as he tightens his hold on his friends shoulder. Tubbo shook his head in denial.

“No, it’s not over yet. I’m president now, and the first thing I’m going to do…” Tubbo pauses for a moment, thinking about the severe loss they went through that day. Their now former older brother was dead, slain by the hands of his own father as he wept for the simple yearning of death. “The first thing I’m going to do is fix this. We’ll start from the ground up and go from there. Then… then we’ll hold a service… for Wilbur.”

Tommy grimaces at the thought of having to mourn his brother, the same man that blew their nation up, that no longer held the same kind eyes. Tommy was angry, not only at Wilbur but at himself. He was angry he allowed for his role model, his president to fall from such grace.

“The symphony is not over, I won’t allow it,” Tubbo goes on, staring intensely over the broken land. “Wilbur will not be forgotten and nor will L’Manburg, this is our home, and we must continue our fight to have peace. I… I can’t take anymore losses if I’m to be honest. And quite frankly I’m scared. But we have to carry on, for Wilbur’s sake-for old Wilbur’s sake. I won’t let his symphony drown out.”

“Our symphony,” Tommy mutters, taking a shaky breath, “Our L’Manburg will not fall. That green son of bitch is going down.” Tubbo peers over his shoulder, expression soft.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, and I don’t want to lose anyone I care about. We will use our words, and we will do things peacefully.” For a moment, a short moment, they were finally just two teens talking to each other. There was no looming threat and there was nothing that could stop them.

“I hope you’re right,” Tommy smiles, gazing behind the two to see a group of people, their people, gather behind them. “I hope you’re right.”

Niki, their practically older sister, looked somberly over the two, remembering when times were simpler, when teenagers didn’t have to be in a war. Then, a pang of guilt wrapped her heart in rose covered thorns. Wilbur… Wilbur was missing. If there was one thing she couldn’t take, it would be the disappearance of her best friend without so much as a goodbye.

“Listen everyone!” Tommy hollered over the murmurs of conversation, raising his fist to the crying sky. “We won the war! And we did it together!” Tommy takes his other hand and clasps Tubbo’s hand in his own, raising it. “We will fix this!” Tubbo side glances Tommy, eyes full of hope. “We lived! We,” He takes a breath, “We pushed through it!”

For a split second, Tommy could’ve sworn he saw the familiar sweater of a certain person, however the colors puddled and whatever he could’ve saw was gone. Blue petals flew through the sky, circling the sun peeking through the clouds. Tubbo squeezes his fist and lets out a jovial shriek.

“We did it!” Tubbo pumps his fist in the sky as the adrenaline pumps through his veins. In a much quieter tone, mostly to himself, “Wilbur, we did it.” Tommy curses himself as he feels tears prick the corner of his eyes like boiling water.

“The old Wilbur, the real Wilbur, would be proud,” Tommy admits to his best friend. “As for the one we saw die… that one was a sick son of a bitch. I’m glad that Wilbur is fucking dead.” Tubbo lets out a chortle and shakes his head in agreement. Felt weird to talk about their brother in past tense, and the trauma of it all will never fade completely. However, they are kids that have been through a lot.

Things would be better, everything could and would improve from there in only of the most perfect of realities. But as a tied bird walks in the snow, carrying a burden he wasn’t prepared to carry, an idea flickers within the mind of the green evil.

Unlike the symphony that rang bells and softly played with the rabbits, a rather scratchier symphony was in tow.

-0-

**Date: Unknown.**

**I pray for the future of our nation, of our lives. I’ve never been inclined to feel at home here, I’m new, I’m unknown. I see that everyone already formed their family and friends. I’m not included, I never really have. No, but I understand the hesitancy to trust again, especially someone… like me. I’m a hybrid, it’s true. I know that I can trust a few, a few that may not trust me… I’m alienated and not just because of my species. There are plenty of people like me, hybrids, that have made a true home here, but what I see wrong with everything is not that there are families, that there are sides. I just want friends. I’ve never had a friend. But I don’t understand why I can’t be friends with everyone without being… what did they call it? A traitor, right.**

**But I care so does that mean I can’t be friends or does that mean I can’t be a good friend, if I don’t help them all. I hate being neutral for what it’s worth, but I can’t think myself to be assigned to one side. Sides are stupid and it blinds everyone away from the truth.**

**I’ll write down those I trust another day, but for now I will continue to visit T____ as much as a I can. ____m told me that if I continue to visit him and give him hope, that I’m being a horrible friend for lying to him.**

**I hope that’s not true, but I don’t want to mess this up.**

**-Author, unknown.**

-0-

Stress couldn’t begin to describe what Wilbur was feeling. It was like the entirety of the world is coming crashing down on his back just like the Greek titan Atlas, however admittedly, Wilbur was not quite as strong as a titan. Feeling overwhelmed by the amount of tension is an incredibly worldwide experience.

The car ride to a certain killer headache was in motion and Wilbur was stuck in the middle of it, both metaphorically and physically. Wilbur was uncomfortably seated between the two who had a little electricity between them, and no it wasn’t love, quite the opposite. Technoblade and Alex were on either side of Wilbur’s sides after a particularly unplanned backfire for Alex’s intense personality. Without it being said, Alex was pissed off his superiority aura got rain in the middle of his parade.

“Wilbur, do you reckon this car could go any slower?” Technoblade holds his hands clasped in his lap as he burns holes into the driver’s seat. Wilbur cleared his throat nervously glancing at the car floor.

“Uhm, well I mean I really don’t know what car standards you have Techno…” Wilbur mutters anxiously as he feels Alex tense his leg.

“Punz, you can go a little faster for the back-seat driver here.” Alex grits out, smiling intensely into the front mirror. Punz and Alex’s eyes meet only for a second before Punz quickly darts back to the road, stepping on the pedal just a tad more.

“I’d be surprised if this car didn’t break down, right Wilbur?” Technoblade was being incredibly passive-aggressive and everyone in the car could understand that very quickly.

Wilbur side glares Technoblade, but to no avail was Technoblade focusing on the driver’s seat. The headache Wilbur had was growing worse, this weird rivalry between companies was so weird.

“I didn’t think it was true, but clearly Technoblade has never been in an upwards to half a million dollars car! Rest easy, my friend, Alex is here to show you the ropes.” Honey dripped from Alex’s mouth as he continued to speak, however Techno dug his nails into his hand to keep himself in line. Gods above, Technoblade was screaming murder in his head. If his nails had been any longer, it’s certain he would have been drawing blood.

Wilbur felt tears pile behind his eyes from the amount of pressure he was experiencing, being in the middle of this quarrel. With hope for this to end, Fundy connected his phone to the car and started to play loud music that could drown out any further conversations.

 _Thank you, Fundy_ , Wilbur prayed _, I will forever be in your debt._

Wilbur heard Alex mutter under his breath that they really needed a bigger car, and so he held in a small laugh. Even despite the fact that its cemented that Alex is their enemy, Wilbur couldn’t help but feel like it was stupid that him and Techno had to fight over something as simple as job titles. Alex seemed like a nice fellow and that they’d get a long if it weren’t for their situation. Maybe, in another life they could’ve been friends.

It may seem that they’re being arrested, but no one asked for their phones. So, Wilbur took it upon himself to assure his brothers that they were taking a detour. Only Tubbo answered, with a picture of him giving a thumbs up to the camera with Tommy and Karl sprawled across the floor, with the message, “They had a sugar crash pogchamp.” Techno exhaled softly when he saw the message, a faint smile tracing his lips.

It cooled the brother’s nerves down tremendously to see that at least they weren’t hurt or dying. Means they can focus more on the situation at hand than worrying about people who are doing simply fine.

As the car draws near the bustling city, it only was more apparent how nervous Alex was, despite him supposedly being the authority in this situation. The guy that was supposed to intimidating was never really an overpowering sort of guy, which reflected poorly of anything that could prove to be problem about this man. Alex is a person, and he can’t be defined from a few character traits that has only been displayed in the short time of knowing him.

While he presented himself to be someone who knows a lot and is incredibly passive aggressive, Alex has a family, friends, stupid stories when he was younger. He was in no way the enemy to Wilbur.

Wilbur wondered if Technoblade had ever met Schlatt or if he was lying when he said they were good friends. That was the thing with Technoblade; lies came easy to the man and it often got mixed with the truth. It was like a curse to lie like telling the truth.

Suppose Technoblade was told to tell 10 truths and 1 lie. It’s not that he’d make it everything he said to be crazy enough to be true, it’s that when he talks, he talks as if it’s his last words, so people are compelled to listen. His words stick like facts and flat statements.

As car pulled into a parking lot, Alex opted for them to enter a side door. Something about “not wanting the secretary to be seduced by your jawline” in referral to Wilbur. There were no words that would explain the feeling Wilbur had.

The building was sleek and finished, paintings donned the wall like a royal palace. In all honesty, Wilbur thought, it was a building that could easily go up in flames, but that’s not him planning anything.

Fundy and Punz smile as they opened the double doors leading into what Wilbur could describe as “the villain entrance” in plot terms. The room, while completely decked with a bar full of hard liquor and wine, was elegant, from the chandelier to the way the books sat upon shelves. Jealousy leaked from every pore of Technoblade’s body.

Schlatt, the only person that could ever sit in the grand chair, smiled gleefully upon his guests arrival. Schlatt was donned in a pressed suit with a simple royal red tie. His facial hair, however, was less than facial hair code if Wilbur’s ever followed one. _Lambchops and a mustache_ , Wilbur thought to himself _, a style only this man could pull off._

“Gentlemen!” Schlatt stands up, opening his arms in greeting. Every instinct Wilbur had told him to run as far away as he can, but somehow, he was still drawn in by his careful and warm welcome. That was chalked down to false alarm quickly.

“Mr. JSchlatt, how are you man?” Alex continues to walk, a grin cemented in his face, his body relaxed as Schlatt shakes his hand. Alex stands by his side and smiles pridefully, almost like this was his role in everything.

“Good, good…” Schlatt’s voice drops as he talks to his right-hand man. “See I… I really appreciate your work Alex, you’ve done fantastic.” _This man was an American_ , Wilbur solemnly notes by the way he pronounced fantastic and not the American flag displayed behind him.

Alex looks relieves, and he takes a good moment to nod to himself. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’d like to get right down to business, if you gentlemen wouldn’t mind.” Schlatt beckons them to seat themselves at the couch set in front of his desk as he strides over to the bar. He rings a bell and outcomes Fundy, once more. He says something, nothing Wilbur or Technoblade could hear, but Fundy understood and began to pour a glass of wine.

“Technoblade, my old friend,” Schlatt starts, holding a glass in his hands as he sits at his desk whereas Alex stands behind him like an obedient dog. “I was surprised to hear you arrived in America without shooting me a notice! I would’ve given you the most luxurious tour to my residence.”

“I had plans to be with a friend of Wilbur’s.” Technoblade easily replies even as Schlatt’s eyes continued to stare directly at him, analyzing. To that, Schlatt adverts his gaze to Wilbur who looked away.

“Wilbur huh…” Schlatt nods to himself. “Wilbur Soot, your brother I take it? I see the resemblance.” Wilbur clears his throat as nods in agreement. Technoblade makes no reaction to this.

“Wil is my younger twin.” Techno flatly states as Schlatt focuses in on Wilbur’s mannerisms, like being picked apart at the thread. It was uncomfortable to feel the burning gaze of the older man.

“Didn’t realize you had a twin until I heard it from some _lovely_ workers of mine. They referred me to your music Wilbur,” Wilbur snaps to attention as he feels a blush creep up his neck. “And I have to say, I really do like it. Couldn’t believe someone with your talent was related to Technoblade of all people!” Schlatt lets out a boisterous laugh as Wilbur tittered.

“Thank you.” Wilbur mumbles, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Your accents could’ve fooled me; I really do wonder why that is. We can get into that another day.” Schlatt assures, drawing a deep breath. Technoblade straightens his posture as he crosses his legs.

“Let’s get to business,” Techno said, “I’m doing valuable research and I’m interrupted by your buddy over there, Alex. I’m not too happy about it, considering I was certain that word would get to me about your rules.” Wilbur tenses.

“I don’t know why that could be… hm. Well, I sincerely apologize on behalf of my team and I for all the trouble I’ve caused you today.” His words slithered out like a snake telling lies, even Wilbur could tell under the faux sympathy. Schlatt was a red flag in himself, his entire aura screamed to get away.

“See, I thought I was completely transparent with REM in how proceedings go when sending an agent. I’ll have to improve on that with Eret, I’m sure we can reach to a mutual decision.” Technoblade looks down as he smiles before peering back up with an intense expression.

“I’m going to make myself very clear here,” Technoblade goes on, taking the glass of wine Fundy gave to up and brought it to his nose before smelling it and sloshing the contents around. “As little business here as possible and we can get out of your hair. My brother and I can be on our way home, when we come to an agreement on when we can properly explore this glorious land.” Schlatt’s aura changes as he narrows his eyes.

“Well, Technoblade, I’m astounded truly. I hear you; you’ve probably got a girl back home to return to and all that, but I was hoping for a more meaningful chat. See I was aiming to understand you, your looks deceive you and your actions tell a thousand words,” Schlatt’s lips curve into a grin, a friendly one… maybe?

Fundy hands Wilbur a glass of wine and nods curtly. Wilbur mouths words of gratitude before Fundy disappeared behind the bar.

“Technoblade I know what you’ve been up to. I know your little search for your father, and I know what direction that’s lead you and I’m wondering why you haven’t it made it public. You’re an incredible researcher, I’ve read your reports. Now, it’s complicated, I’m sure, but explain to me why you can’t come out about your information on Wither bones?” Schlatt’s tone gets more and more condescending as he continues to rise from his seat. Alex stiffens against the wall, trying to avoid all contact with the clearly angered man.

“I’m going to be honest here Schlatt, so you better listen to me,” Technoblade sets his wine down on the table, even though he hasn’t taken a sip. “Drop this case and you won’t get hurt. This is a lot more than complicated for someone who only knows how to follow the law and use it for their greedy scumbag wishes. This is not your battle to fight.” Technoblade warns lowly. The tension was thick was more and it was suffocating Wilbur; the person who had nothing to do with this little petty rivalry.

Schlatt lets out a cackle that echoes throughout the room, Wilbur winces.

“I’ll have you know something, Technoblade,” He made sure to pronounce each syllable, “I heard from a little birdie that you have one other little brother and his best friend. I’m not saying I’ll do anything to them physically, but it’s in your best interest to simply help a friend out.”

The room went silent before a wine glass shattered against the floor. This time, although, Technoblade’s feet never left the floor as Schlatt was pinned against the polished floor. Instead, Wilbur Soot, held Schlatt against the floor with his forearm choking his throat.

“Take it back,” Wilbur hissed as Technoblade takes a sip of his glass. Alex stands at behind the desk, with hesitation to intervene.

“You can’t do anything to me pretty boy,” Schlatt grins, gritting through his teeth. “Or did you already forget? This is my terf, if video of this gets out, your little career is over.”

“You think I care more about my career than my family?” Wilbur snarls, pressing his forearm deeper into Schlatt’s throat. There was nothing that could stop Wilbur from this besides the small tapping of Technoblade’s hands.

“Wilbur, I can deal with this guy.” Technoblade mutters, voice low and eyes slanted. The two twins screamed bloody murder that even made Alex jittery on his feet.

Despite his unfortunate standing or lack of standing, Schlatt hacked on Wilbur’s forearm as his face became as red as a balloon. He shoots a glare up at Alex who promptly pushes Wilbur off of his boss.

Sitting up, Schlatt wipes his mouth and scoffs as Alex offers his hand up. “Listen here, Wilbur Soot. I don’t care about your little family or your absent father. I care about letting the public know what the public needs to know. If your researcher of an older brother just helps me out, you can be on your merry way home. Does that sound like a deal?”

Wilbur was sure that Technoblade would be fine on his own, he means that Techno has lived for years by himself without the need of assistance. When it comes to Tommy and Tubbo however, they do need help; they’re teenagers for god sakes. Even if Tommy and Tubbo weren’t family, Wilbur would be as protective as a mother bear; that much is evident.

Technoblade sets his glass down on the table, pushing himself to his feet. “You know Schlatt, I would never willingly publish something that would cause the public panic. Wither bones are not simply another average day findings; it’s more than that. Imagine the chaos it would lead and the exploitations of hard working people towards something nobody but me understands. I’ll work with you as long as the public doesn’t have to know and,” Technoblade shifts his gaze to Wilbur, “as long as you never threaten my family again.”

“I’d hardly say you’re one to make demands, but I’ll allow it for now. Technoblade, tomorrow you’ll begin your research here at RAM. I’ll make sure no one will set foot into those ruins just for you… But I expect the utmost respect around my office, and I won’t be having another idiot roaming these hallways, is that right Soot?” Wilbur felt powerless at that moment, but he knew that even then, Schlatt wouldn’t be making anymore threats towards his little brothers.

“Sure Schlatt, we’ll do it your way.” As if Wilbur had begun to channel Techno’s passive aggressiveness, he looked Schlatt up and down.

“Wonderful, well I expect some sort of compensation for making a ruckus of my office, but no worries for now. Technoblade will pay it back to me with his hard work. Though I wouldn’t be quick to assume I won’t hold it over your head!” Schlatt laughs at the end, however anyone could tell that he wasn’t exactly telling a joke.

“I want to talk to my brother in private please.” Wilbur requests. Schlatt waves them off to talk a little further away.

“I’m sorry Techno, but I really don’t think- “

“Listen Wilbur. I have no problems working for Schlatt, I won’t even be giving him actual information. You have Dad’s book; I’m trusting you to have it and continue to look for him. I’m not for certain that we’ll be seeing each other in the near future, so I’m sorry in advance.”

“This is all my fault.”

“I don’t blame you for throwing fists with that guy, he’s an asshole.” Technoblade assures, placing his hand on Wilbur’s sagged shoulders. Wilbur whispers words of gratitude.

“Be careful Techno, I don’t trust him one bit.” Wilbur throws a sideway glance at the businessman as he started to shout at Alex.

“Listen _Quackity_ , I don’t want to hear your lame excuses. Do that one more time and I’ll throw you out of the building! Kiss your sorry flat ass of an income a goodbye, you hear me?” A glass shattered on the floor. “Pick it up with your hands!”

“Please be careful Technoblade, I mean it.” Wilbur draws in a big breath of air, feeling his chest hurt with empathy.

“He won’t lay a finger on me,” Technoblade scoffs, “Even if he had 100 goons, I could wipe the floor clean with them. 10 years of combat aren’t for nothing.” Wilbur laughs, knowing the pain of being a dummy once or twice.

“Expect the unexpected.” Wilbur rehearsed, referring to how Techno had repeated it like a mantra when they were younger. Technoblade really showed no remorse for his younger twin in the strength department. Even as a kid, Techno didn’t have a sense of mercy for the weak, only pity.

“Exactly.” Techno smiles, dragging out his words. _Glad something stuck in his pea brain if it weren’t for the brain damage, I gave him._

“How can I find Dad if I can’t investigate the ruins?” Wilbur asks, glancing disdainfully at Schlatt.

“There’s a section in his book that mentions a traveler, one that may be able to point in his direction. I’ll deal with Schlatt. You’ll find the page easily, it’s tabbed ‘Half n Half’ if you can imagine what that means.”

It was strange to say the very least, having to deal with not only the disappearance of your father but also the subplot of bones that could possibly wipe out the world. In a time like this, morals needed to be grounded; needed to be set. Wilbur couldn’t find himself latched to a backbone for his actions. He was impulsive and sought for no harm to come across his estranged family. Was that good enough to be the reasoning behind actions?

Something told Wilbur that the plot would only thicken and there must be a great plan for the people around him. It was a weird world, and they were just living in it.

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**It’s hard to get a breath of fresh air around here, I really hope there’s some sort of end for this bloodshed. I understand the need to defend one’s home, it’s just unfortunate it had to happen to people so young. I wonder if there’s anyone who actually understands what’s really happening. It’s my home to, and I want to defend it. It’s difficult to say how I feel about this, maybe this is a trait of being passive. I fought for this land too and my voice will be heard. I hate war, it’s simple as that. Peace has never been a thing until we declared independence, which is stupid in all honesty considering we just wanted to be on our own away from the rest of them.**

**I hate war, I condemn it in fact. But I can’t keep being pushed around for this, I know I have to fight, and I will, but no one will take me seriously. I’ll show them what it means to be person in need of their home. I hope ____ will understand why, but then again, he did decide to join _______ of all people!**

**I understand what I have to do, but I’m not sure if I can. It hurts to see W__ turn out this way, a part of me wonders what he’s really thinking in a time like this.**

**This has to work out. We have to get _’_______ back.**

**-Author, unknown.**

_[Notes: Handwriting is smaller and in cursive, possibly written with a certain belief that the contents would be found. This war seems to be taking a toll on the founders of this country, understandably so.]_

-0-

After an insufferable ride back to Karl’s place, Wilbur heaves a sigh as he unlocks Karl’s door. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in some sort of snacks, and the pistachios were looking delectable.

“Wilbur!” Tommy drags, running from Karl’s streaming room, his face ever so mischievous. “Hello bitch boy!”

Wilbur deadpanned as he threw a pistachio into his mouth. “Hey Tommy.”

Unsatisfied with his response, Tommy’s shoulders drop and stares up at Wilbur pouting. “Dickhead… Where’s Technoblade I want to fuck him up.”

“Technoblade has work elsewhere, he’ll be back later.” While it wasn’t a complete lie, Technoblade would be back sometime. Schlatt insisted on Technoblade staying at a five star hotel as opposed to “some Twitch streamer’s ditch” which was both offensive and hilarious.

“Awgh, when? Tubbo went to sleep early so now I can’t beat someone up! I’m itching to fight, Wilbur, Wilbur, please let me fight you. I want to fight you.” Tommy’s tone only got higher as he rambled.

Wilbur pinches the bridge of his nose, in an exasperated tone, he said, “Tommy if you so much as touch me, your ass is going to be six feet under, I am not in the mood for this, you child.”

Something in Tommy’s brain clicked like a flip switch as anger flowed through his veins. If there was one thing Tommy was, it was not a child. May it be the way it threw it so casually, but the way he said it so often, Tommy was in all aspects, upset.

“I’m not a child! Stop acting like I’m a child, I’m almost as tall as you and I know I can beat you in a fist fight! Call me a child one more time, I fucking dare you!” Tommy yelled, stepping forward towards the exhausted Wilbur.

“Stop yelling, you’re going to wake up someone. You realize how late at night it is, Tommy? It’s 12, the neighbors can probably hear you,” Wilbur retorts, “I have had enough drama for one day, okay? I can’t deal with your teenage bullshit.”

“Bullshit? It’s bullshit how I’m treated like a child around you! You never understand what it feels like to be looked down upon? I could kill God if I really wanted too, okay?”

All Wilbur’s life he’s been looked down upon. By Technoblade, by his father, by the teachers, by everyone. Wilbur couldn’t as much breath in his father’s direction without being berated with something. When he broke his arm, his father wasn’t there to comfort him.

“Tommy, I’m sick of this, today has been very long for me, so if you could shut up for a moment!” Wilbur’s voice got louder, as did the noise in his head screaming at him to shut up.

“I want to know why Wilbur; I want to know why I got dragged along to America for a family trip that so far as just been me and Tubbo! Cut the bullshit Wilbur, stop treating me like a goddamn child!”

“Well, I can’t! I want to so bad, but I can’t let you get hurt. I’d love to tell you all about it, but it’s too complicated to even begin!”

Tommy pauses for a moment, before scoffing, avoiding Wilbur’s eyes. “Is that why you have Dad’s book?”

Silence.

“I can’t- “

“I just want to know Wilbur. Does this involve Dad?”

“Yes. I want to- “

“He left us. I barely have any memory of that bastard, and I’ve heard how shit he was. Why care for him now?”

“We have to. I hate him far more than you ever will,” Tommy rolls his eyes, “It’s not just for my or Technoblade’s sake; it’s for a lot more people. I want to tell you all about it, I hate keeping you in the dark, but I’m scared that you’ll get hurt. Please try to understand.”

“I want to know,” Tommy says, “What’s so important that’d make you so afraid to tell the truth to me?”

Wilbur leans against the kitchen counter, adverting his glance from the teen. “Your life is important Tommy. Your life is more important than anything. I get not knowing something, but it’s for your sake.”

“If Dad’s involved, I’d like to know. I hate him, but…” Tommy grimaces as he continues in a lower, much quieter tone, “We’re still a family y’know? I get to know what involves him.”

“It was never my intention to let you get involved, not one bit.” Wilbur admits.

“Yeah well, I can’t stand not being involved, so piss off.” It was slightly teasing, but it made Wilbur smile. No matter how mad Tommy could be, he could still find a way to insult Wilbur.

“Do you trust me Tommy?”

“I do.”

“Can you continue to trust me?”

“I’m not sure with all these questions, but I can.”

“I need you to trust me in everything that I do, because I won’t always make the most sensible calls, but have faith in me that’s it’s for yours and everyone else’s sake.” Shifting on his feet, Wilbur stands to his full height before awkwardly walking towards Tommy. Wilbur put’s his hand on Tommy’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes, earnestly.

“I don’t like this one bit,” explains Tommy, grinding his teeth in his mouth. “I want to help.”

Wilbur has a small laugh in his throat. “I understand. Even I still feel left out, Techno hasn’t told me everything he knows, I can tell.”

“Typical.” Tommy snorts, waving Wilbur’s hand off, taking a few steps towards the hallway leading out of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Tommy.”

“Yeah, yeah. You should be and I’m gonna drill it into your fucking brain. Get it tattooed across your forehead: ‘Tommy I’m Sorry’”

“You’re a dickhead.” Wilbur drags his hand across his face in a slightly exasperated way.

Here comes the indignant retort, “I’m not a dickhead, I’m actually a very big man, I’ll have you know!” Tommy flails his arms in the air and huffs childishly.

“Right, right,” Wilbur mumbles, not quite heeding to Tommy’s outrage.

“I’m not very happy with you, prick.”

“That makes too of us, now leave me alone I have to think.” Wilbur twists the pistachio bag around and holds it tightly in his fist, before sauntering over to a guest bedroom, stopping in the doorframe.

“Will you eventually tell me?” Tommy throws an intentful glare to which Wilbur laughs fondly.

“Maybe, but I expect you to be a whole lot nicer to me.” Wilbur turns around, but as he closes the door, Tommy sticks his hand in between.

“You’re a pussy.” The flat statement didn’t mean a thing to Wilbur, however Tommy’s fingers meant something to Tommy, so his fingers were less than okay.

Shrieking and running away, Tommy returned to the streaming room with a bone to pick with Wilbur when his fingers stopped throbbing. Wilbur felt a little bad, but at least his younger brother wouldn’t be on his ass for the rest of the night… or morning. For whatever time it was, it didn’t matter.

If there was a way to know what everyone thought, what everyone was motivated to do, Wilbur would be the first one in line. He knew that Technoblade knew things, of course Techno would know more than him, but it sucked to know that he hasn’t been told. Same thing applies to Tommy, so Wilbur understood both positions.

Maybe it was the unknown reason part, Wilbur speculated. He hated not knowing why and only feels the repercussions of feeling untrusted. Wilbur had made it clear that it was for Tommy’s safety, but Technoblade was always a different brother than Tommy in many planes.

Technoblade was reserved, kept to himself, and most all, was as absent as their father in some ways. Tommy was brash, made everyone know how he feels, did things to make people upset for his own laughter, but Tommy wouldn’t be able to hold information from any of his family. Sure, Wilbur was the middle child in all of this, and has both traits, but there wasn’t a second where Wilbur wouldn’t trust his brothers to help save the world.

Is saving the world even something Wilbur could say? He wasn’t the protagonist or the main character, in fact he felt like the world passed him by every day. What was there to write about a 24 year old British dude who streams and coincidentally lost his father at a young age? The trauma of it all? Who would want to follow just another sad sob story without there being something to it?

What was the purpose of anything? It’s like a sinking despair that wallows in your stomach when you realize the universe will always go on without you? Or that, in the end, your story will end, and the book will finish; the writer is done writing and there’s nothing to do but hope to create another story like that one. Forget the feeling of tapping the keys or dipping a pen in ink, remember the world building and plot devices. The theme.

This stories end feels so far away, that leaves Wilbur wondering if it’s possible that he never had a story and only serves as a supporting character. There was nothing special about him.

Even so, with all of these depressing thoughts, Wilbur knew his story couldn’t have ended so early; that there must be more to this than just confusion. He would find out what Technoblade’s withholding from him, he will find out where and why his father left him, why the ruins left him sad, or why it felt like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Left to his own thoughts, slumber took over his eye lids as he slips into dreams that he may never remember.

-0-

The sun kisses the gentle sway of the grass as bells toll in the distance. Soft singing fills the wind in a majestic swirl whereas a small violin sings it’s gleeful tune. The patters of a waterfall fill the background.

“I’m glad we settled here, you know I-I really appreciate your being here and all; it’s been comforting. I couldn’t think of a better companion to take.” Wilbur lays facing up at the sky, glancing to the side of a woman with brown and bleached hair knitting quietly.

“You’re welcome. I love this place and I love being here. Thank you for taking me.” Niki laughs softly, glitter dancing in her eyes. Her hands rests in her lap, loosely gripping the wooden needles that had been made just for her.

“You reckon this place’ll ever be discovered besides us?” Wilbur asks, flipping on his side, resting his cheek on his upright arm. Niki thinks for the moment before shaking her head no.

“I wouldn’t want them to find this place. They’ll ruin the scenery with their yelling; it’s quite annoying.” She smiles before picking up the needles once more and intricately threading softly twined yarn.

“I don’t want them here either,” Wilbur agrees, laying on his back once more. He reaches his hand in the sky as if he were to grab the clouds. The sun peaks over them once more as Wilbur is blinded by the light. “But I think it’d be worth bringing Tubbo here, there’s plenty of bees for him to be busy.”

“Yes, but I’d imagine poor Tommy’ll want to come along, god knows how clingy he is.” Niki didn’t look up from her project, her hair was like a curtain flowing from her head before she pulls the curtain back with a simple finger to the ear in a sweeping fashion.

Wilbur hums as he reaches for his uniform jacket to make a makeshift pillow. A tambourine shakes rhythmically as the gentle hum of songbirds sing.

“Truthfully, I’d like to never leave this place,” Wilbur confesses, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Niki shifts on her legs and repositions herself causing Wilbur to open one eye. “Leaving me already?”

“Gods no,” Niki laughs, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the thought. “You’re the one who left me, goofy.” Wilbur waves her away as she giggles.

“I haven’t a clue on what you’re talking about, I’m right here.” Wilbur dismisses her as he pulls his arm over his eyes in attempt to shield them from the sun’s rays.

“Yeah, you did, you left me and everyone else. Wilbur don’t say you don’t remember. The day you were exiled. You left all of us to die.” Wilbur creases his forehead as he rubs his eyes and sits up.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t exiled, I’m right here, what do you mean Niki?” Wilbur turns to face Niki as the wind roars and the clouds shift to darkness. Niki continues to knit, even as the weather worsens with rain pouring.

“You left us all, you abandoned us. I didn’t say anything because, I was afraid I’d ruin the moment, but Wilbur I… L’Manburg fell because of you. Because you failed.” Wilbur leans on his knees in front of Niki, desperately taking the knitting needles out of her hands, but as if she were a pile of dust, her body was blown by the breeze until her knitting project was left.

“Niki? Niki?” Wilbur tries desperately, trying to catch the dust in the growing winds. He grabs the knitting needles in his clutched hands and stands to the skies, spinning slowly as he realized a storm was brewing.

“What’s happening!” Wilbur screams, attempting to be louder than the wind whistling in the air, but his cries were drowned out by the dark clashes of thunder clapping the atmosphere.

His uniform jacket, decorated in blue, red, white, and yellow, was swept away in the wind, but in a futile attempt to grab it, Wilbur stumbles over the hill until his body aches from clashing in the rocks.

And there he was again, lost in the sea of rocks that haunted him rightfully so. His arm ached in immense pain, clutching it close to his heart. His heart beats fast as memories collide into one. The rain comes to a pitiful stop as he hears the happy cries of children playing in the distance.

Picking himself up from the pit, Wilbur scrambles to his feet, watching the rain slip past him like a forgotten memory, the small tunes of a violin sunk gracefully into his heart once more. Wilbur’s eyes catch the moving forms of children running around giddily, most likely playing tag.

Their faces are bright as they giggle with gapped teeth. Small jackets lie in the distance along with small shoes misplaced shoes. Shrieks fill the sky as the sun peaks once more over the playing children, however Wilbur was stuck in the dripping shower of the skies tears.

Reaching his good arm out, Wilbur wants to grab the sunlight, the happiness, the memories of playing as child.

“Technoblade!” a kid cries, giggling, as a taller kid, chases after him, “Stop! You’re gonna get me!” Wilbur’s arm stops, shakily.

“I’m gonna tell on you! If you don’t stop chasing Wilby, I’m gonna cry!” Another kid sobs out, holding his small fists to his face to stop the onslaught of salty tears, a band aid plastered on his knee.

“Shut up Tommy, we’re playing!” The kid-Technoblade- looks back after his pursuit and sticks his tongue out. Wilbur’s stomach drops, his lungs felt frigid.

A tall figure stands in the distance, peering at the children playing, peeking behind a tree. Wilbur notices this man and hopes that this man wasn’t some creep peeping on some little kid’s playtime. Upon further inspection, Wilbur realized, that this was no man, but a creature. His face was somber, but his expression was not what got to him, it’s what he was. A black and white humanoid creature in a suit with glinting red and green eyes. He seemed sad and lonely.

“Who are you?” Wilbur asks, realizing that somehow, he was besides the creature. The creature jumps into nothingness, purple particles blowing up like a party popper, before he reappears as if nothing had happened. Waving away the particles, Wilbur askes the creature once more. “Who are you? What are you?”

The creature’s eyes widen with realization as he looks Wilbur up and down. “Wilbur Soot?” The creature speaks with a deep voice, one that surprised Wilbur. “Oh my god, how are you here? I’ve been looking after you as a child, but here you are. Oh, my oh my, what’s happening, I can’t remember, oh my. I need my book; I need to jot this down!” The creature rambles, scrambling for his pockets where a leather book appears even thought the pocket was uncharacteristically small for said book.

“You know me?” Wilbur swallows, eyebrows creasing in surprise and in fear.

“Yes, I know you, well I kind of know you. I never met you in this life, but I’ve met you before in a past one, sort of. It’s very complicated, I’d have to console my book on the details, bad memory and all. I hope I’m not too much of a bother, see I’ve been looking for you. You’re the key to everything and I think I can finally bring everyone back together!” The creature goes on, flipping through pages, ignoring Wilbur and his pursuit to understand more of what he’s saying.

“Who or what are you?” Wilbur continues on, pressing for answers. His hand pushes down the book that the creature holds in attempt to direct attention to him.

The creature blinks slowly, before a light bulb goes off. “Oh! I guess you’re confused on who I am! Well, we’ve never properly been introduced before, see I haven’t seen any of you lot since everything when to hell! You wouldn’t have remembered me even if you had the memories of all your past lives, isn’t that crazy? Well, I’ve just been here, see I never actually died, so I... I’m quite lonely,” The creature’s hand moves trying to demonstrate his thoughts. “Let’s see I have to write this down… Okay, okay, I know the time,” He checks his wristwatch, “Ah okay, August 16th, 1999, that’s right!”

Wilbur double backs, throwing a glance at the playing kids. He comes to the realization that he’s not where he’s supposed to be. “I’m from 2020,” Wilbur stops the creature from writing the date. “I can-that-I’m 24 and you’re watching my younger self! This is-this is fucking weird!” The creature looks up from his book once more with curious eyes.

“I guess I did forget that I’ve been watching Kidbur, hm…” The creature taps his pen against his chin. “You’re not supposed to be here Wilbur, you have to go back, and I’ll find you then; if I remember that is.”

“Who are you?” Wilbur raises his voice as the creature hushes him desperately.

“Voice lower, voice lower. Here, I’m going to give you a note that you’ll need to find me in the future. I think your father would appreciate my helping you,” The creature writes down something quickly before ripping it out of his book. “You’ll meet me in the future okay? My name is Ranboo and I think it’s time you go back.”

“What?”

“Tell Tubbo I said hello, I think he’d appreciate it,” The creature-Ranboo- scratches behind his ear, eyes glancing to the side nervously. “I have much to tell him about stories and how… I miss him, but no fear! I’ll make sure to tell him in the future-oh I’m so glad you’re here. Please remember this Wilbur, please remember this.” Ranboo holds Wilbur’s clasped hands with the contents of the note inside his fist.

“Please remember.”

-0-

“Wilbur! Wilbur! Stop fucking sleeping I’m starving you bitch!” A brash and loud voice wakes Wilbur from his deep slumber. Light pours into the room from the opened windows, curtesy of the teenager slamming the curtains back on their rods.

“Tommy?” Wilbur blearily speaks, not aware of his surroundings yet, he brings his clenched fist to his eye to rub it, until he realizes he’s holding something. Tommy doesn’t stop to hit his older brother upside the head before exiting the room in a huff.

“I’m starving!” Tommy yells into the room before stomping off to god knows where.

Wilbur pulls his legs off the bed, as he does every time he wakes up, clearing the crusties in his eyes. He opens his hand where a scrap of paper lays folded.

“Remember me Wilbur, it’s Ranboo. August 16th, 1999,” Wilbur reads to himself in a mumble. “Half ‘n Half is a strange name, but it suits me, I might be there or here, but I’m somewhere.”

“When did I write this?” Wilbur powers his phone and checks the time; 11:31 am. He scrunches the paper into his pocket and waves off any thoughts. He stops for a moment, thinking.

 _What was I dreaming_ , Wilbur thinks? He scratches the back of his head as he turns to face the window. A small bee buzzes by the window, which caught his attention. The wind picks up and the bee was swept away in... a purple substance?

His breath hitches, his ears start to ring. The window felt like a portal to another world, to another reality, as his eyes catch a glance of great black and yellow walls, a flag waving in the distance. A chorus wailed, the drums beating quickly to the rhythm as an acapella sang their sorrowful but hopeful tune. As if a fragment of light caught the window perfectly, soon the apparition was gone, and Wilbur stood gazing at himself.

Wilbur was left with the feeling of hireath. The feeling of wanting to go home to a place that is unattainable or never existed. His hands shook, but he didn’t know why.

Wilbur’s mind throbbed in misery as it desperately tried to piece things together, but the puzzle never fit. He was missing a piece, so the masterpiece wasn’t finished and there was no end result.

“I want to remember.” Wilbur mutters to himself, feeling tears in the back of his eyes. Why he felt like crying, he didn’t know, but his heart ached for a home, his home.

Where is home?

-0-

**Date: Unknown**

**The time slips away and every day I feel myself dig a deeper hole. Dates never came easy to me, neither did anything really. I would recall something, but then it would disappear like a needle in a haystack. Overwhelmed beyond measure. I would like to say I know who I am, or what I’m meant to do, but I’m left with a blank journal. I know I should write in it, but I don’t know what to write. Is there anything specific I have to write down? I guess I’m writing this, but it feels different. I suppose I should name myself, give myself an identity of sorts. I feel like an imposter person, but I don’t think I’m even a person.**

**I’ll never let anyone see this journal, I’ll call it something like “Memory book” or something else pretty cool. I wouldn’t want anyone seeing what I deal with, but then again, nobody wants to go near me. I don’t know what I look like, so I assume I’m hideous. I think that’s sad.**

**List of names I could try:**

**Flork (stupid name) Globran Tokren Ranslow Rantow?**

**I’ll think of something, but I like the direction I’m going. Maybe I’ll remember what name I had, but I think I’d like to name myself “Ranboo”. I like the sound of it, so my name is Ranboo.**

**I like my name. I don’t like the rain; it stings slightly, and I think I melt a little. I’m worried I’ll never make a friend if I can’t go in the rain… will I always be lonely? I’m scared, the night is growing near and I hear the growls of monsters.**

**I want someone to protect me, I want someone I can call “a family” like those village kids. I’m alone. You’re alone.**

**Your name is Ranboo and you have no family. Remember it because I know you’ll forget, future me.**

**-Ranboo.**

**P.S You stole a storytellers book; you should read it. Make sure it doesn’t get wet, so you can return it someday!**

-0-

The snowy blizzard pushes against the tall figure draped in green gowns, as if the storm were alive and actively thwarting whatever plans this person may have in the middle of a snowstorm.

Lights flickered from a small village, oil lamps reaching the end of light time. It was far away, but the traveler was certain he’d reach his destination. As he trudged through the thick snow, the snow seemed to become thinner as he neared the village.

Red dusted his freckled face, as he pulled down his head scarf. He sends a bubbly laugh to a little old lady who frantically dusted off the snow of his shoulders.

“Hello and welcome to our little village! I’m interested in the reason for your visit in the middle of such horrid weather!” The old lady clasps her wrinkly hands together, rubbing them to make heat.

“I was actually searching for the town librarian, I heard he had astounding work.” The large man lets out another laugh, pulling his hat further over his ears. The old lady purses her lips and taps her hands on her desk.

“Let’s see, I don’t think he’s open right now, but I think tomorrow he’ll be available. Busy day!” The lady chirps.

“Well, he’s actually an old friend of mine I was hoping to catch along the path of life,” He pulls off his goggles to reveal piercing blue eyes. “So, you think you could point me in the direction, mate?”

The lady hesitates, before deciding there was nothing threatening about a kind man like him. She points him in the direction of a secluded house and wishes him luck.

The man knocks three times on the door, before the door opens hesitantly, cracking slightly. Out comes a pair of sunglasses and a curious mumble.

“Hello? How can I help you?” Anyone could tell that the librarian was tall and bending over by the way his shoulder hangs.

“Hey mate! Can I come in?” Comes the familiar friendly chirp. The librarian is taken aback but motions for him to come in hurriedly. The door is shut gently behind him by the overarching librarian.

“It’s cold,” The librarian mumbles, nervous at the layered man. “Why did you come to me of all people?”

“Oh, don’t be shy mate, besides, I know you and you know me. Don’t you remember?” He takes of his hat to let his hair show. Shoulder length blonde hair billows out from under the green beanie and he shakes off the snow.

The librarian shields himself from the man as the snow splattered across the room. “Sorry… who?”

“Ranboo, you can’t tell me you don’t know me! It’s Phil, remember?” Phil smiles earnestly as Ranboo takes off his glasses to get a better look.

“Phil?”

-0-

**You lost the storybook. Where did you put it? Did you give it away to someone? Did you give away your book? That was your book. Our book. Why did you let it go, it made us happy? You can’t return it now; they’ll be mad at me for stealing.**

-0-

**You gave it to someone; I saw a kid carry it around the village. Why would you give it to that kid? That kid wasn’t your friend. Was he your friend? Why would you give away your book? It was entertaining…**

-0-

**You knew the kid. The kid was nice. He liked your face and told you that you were cool. You were excited and you showed him your storybook. He was the first person not to be scared. You trust that kid. He is your friend.**

-0-

**He showed you his father. He told you that he wasn’t really your father, but that they were family anyways. Friend said you could be in the family as well. You said yes. You have a family! Friend is entertaining and tells stories.**

-0-

**Friend’s name is _-__-. Father’s name is __-_. There are three other brothers, but they are away. __-_ is trusting and treats you well. Trust __-_. You have a family. Your name is Ranboo and you finally have a family. I’m proud of you.**

-0-

**I’m so proud of you. Never forget them.**

-0-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Wilbur, Technoblade, and Alex venture to Schlatt's office after a spiteful car ride. Schlatt seems nice, but Wilbur senses red flags within him. Schlatt goes onto threaten Tommy and Tubbo's life if Technoblade doesn't become a researcher for Schlatt. Wilbur pins Schlatt against the floor in anger. After this, Technoblade gives Wilbur their father's book and tells him to continue to look for their father, referencing to a tab named "Half n Half". Wilbur returns to Karl's house and has an argument with Tommy who is mad about how Wilbur is not telling him anything. Wilbur tells Tommy that he will in the future and heads to bed. In his dream, he is at a disclosed location with Niki which quickly turns into a nightmare, reminding Wilbur of how he broke his arm. Wilbur sees him, Technoblade, and Tommy playing in a field when they were younger. Wilbur notices a figure in the distance, known as "Ranboo" a split colored humanoid creature who goes on about a memory book and needing Wilbur to remember the events of his dream. Ranboo writes on a page of his book, urging Wilbur to remember it. Wilbur wakes up from his dream, clutching the same piece of paper. Looking out the window, Wilbur is overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to go home; a home that may not exist anymore. Set in the past, Phil, their father, meets up with a frantic Ranboo in a village. Chapter End.
> 
> Section Break Letters: My thought process for the section breaks are simple, they are letters from the past, however names are blurred due to the passing of time which hinders who is writing. A person, unknown, is making notes of the letters including annotations, theories, and short explanations. It is up to the reader to decide who could be writing the entries and who is taking notes.


	4. It is Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, drugs, and thoughts of suicide. no romantic relationships.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine! This is the first proper time I've made a work instead of small oneshots so bare with me !!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

-0-

**Date, Unknown**

**I wonder what brings together humanity. Is it a faux feeling of connection or is it sheer idiocy? As I walk the planes of Earth and Hell, I think to myself “How have humans lasted this long?” when humans time and time again love and trust one another. I can’t find myself trusting a human, but yet I am drawn to these village boys. As I spend my days with them, I feel more tuned to feelings and emotions. I grew attached. By some miracle, I feel a connection to them; I’m scared. I care about another in the same way I care about myself. I want to protect them and hold them close to me at all times. Is this what humans call love?**

**Am I a human? Have I put myself on a pedestal above all others and called myself superior when all I’ve ever been is just a narcissistic? I wonder how long it’s been since I thought myself as a human as the days go by.**

**I feel a sense of care for those two and I feel they think the same about me.**

**I’m no god, I’ve realized, and I’m no better than any other; my friends have taught me that.**

**I’m human. I have emotions. I have felt love and hate.**

**Thank you.**

**-Author, unknown.**

_[Notes: This person must’ve been alone for a majority of their life. It’s evident that this person has learned the feeling of love towards two people, upon further research it’s safe to assume they’re a trio.]_

-0-

Tommy wasn’t a sinner, nor was he saint. There was no good way to describe Tommy’s personality that encompasses everything about him. Sure, he seemed to a brash teenager that spits out curses like it were the word “and”, but even despite all of that anger on the surface, he was just a kid in a big world.

Wilbur knew that about Tommy, there wasn’t a day where he forgot his younger brother was a teenager. No matter how mature Tommy could seem, some take him for a 19 year old, Tommy was a kid, and he acts like one.

There was no good way to put it, however if Wilbur had to describe Tommy, he’d say misunderstood. Tommy is very keen on his belongings, what he calls home. Rightfully so of course, since home is debated amongst the odd family. Home could be where they grew up, or where they live now, or a person.

It was unspoken, but it was felt the same; their home did not have to be where they grew up and it didn’t have to be amongst each other. Tommy’s home was Tubbo, Wilbur’s home was himself, and Techno’s home was wherever he could sleep nicely.

Home was where the people were, so why was only Tommy’s home Tubbo? Could it be that home was never just about people, but the feeling of being safe? Does that mean Technoblade was right on what he calls home? Or is Wilbur right, only trusting himself in his security?

Home.

Why does home feel so far away right now? Wilbur has lived his life and thought about it, so why does home not feel exclusive to him? He wants to go home, but where is home?

As Wilbur stares blankly at the window, reflection glinting in the pane, the emotions he felt within his dreams came flooding in like a tidal wave. The tranquility, the fear, the hope, and the desperation to want to stay.

“What do I want?” comes a hushed whisper from barely parted lips.

 _You want fire that sweeps away your enemies to hell,_ a small voice pricks, _you want to watch the world burn._

“I want…”

 _You want a place to belong, a reason for your living, a glimmer of hope that says you’ll be alright._ A sweeter voice chimes in.

“… a chance...”

_You want to meet your father and scream and yell about how he left you to die, he must be consumed by flames._

“… to finally…”

_Be free._

“I want a chance to finally become someone that means something.” Wilbur finishes, closing his eyes shut, before peeking back at his reflection in the window. A tall figure, much alike him in many characteristics, donned in a revolutionary uniform, wraps his arms around Wilbur and holds him in an embrace. Though the display of affection was not real, Wilbur held his hand to greet the air.

Even spirits could comfort the frantic and confused man.

Wilbur clenches his fist, the one containing the note, and holds it to the window. “I’ll find you,” Wilbur speaks, determined, “and you’ll tell me what the hell is going on, Ranboo.”

Tommy could be one to be looked up to, in the sense that he knows what he wants and who he wants to be.

-0-

It wasn’t too soon after Wilbur had set his mind, that the voices in his head started to become a small nuisance. It was like a back seat driver except it’s a back seat conscious, telling you what to do and how to do it.

The voices are only a murmur of activity to Wilbur, and to his appreciation, he could block it out.

 _You should rip off the carrot top and chuck it at Tommy!_ A voice whisper yells.

Soon, another quieter and sweeter voice retorts. _That’s mean, Tommy’s his brother._

_I don’t care!?_

A beat.

“Shut up.” Wilbur mutters to himself, chopping the carrots methodically. Tommy, from the barstool at the counter, creases his forehead and lips draw into a thin line.

“Are you talking to yourself, big man?” A laugh was stuck in his throat.

Wilbur waves off his brother narrow gaze with his free hand. “I was talking about your little giggling. What’re you doing on Twitter?”

Tommy smiles to himself, “Just replying to every single one of Tubbo’s tweets.” Wilbur rolls his eyes, continuing to chop carrots and sliding the smaller bits to the small container.

A shout comes from the indignant Tubbo who comes in waving his arms. “Tommy! Stop replying to me, I don’t like my tweets resurfacing!” His voice was whiny as his body tenses with anger.

Tommy lets out a jovial laugh, slapping the table with his hand. “Awe, Tubbo is angry, awe!” Tommy coos, “Little bee boy, little small bean, awe.” Tommy starts to mimic weird fans to the annoyed Tubbo.

“Your remarks are not appreciated,” Tubbo crosses his arms and narrows his eyes as Wilbur continues to chop carrots, tilting his head in endearment. “Wilbur, please tell him to stop!” Tubbo pleads as Tommy continues to cackle at his own jokes.

Wilbur stops his cutting and stares down the teen who’s holding his stomach in pain. Tommy can’t keep his face straight, however when he sees the impeding “mom look” of Wilbur, he stops before slowly blinky back and forth towards Tubbo and Wilbur.

“Sorry Tubbo…” Tommy apologizes, disgruntled. The carrot chopping continues.

Tubbo smiles fondly as he takes a seat next to Tommy at the counter. He grabs a slice of carrot and throws it in his mouth.

“What’s the plan for today?” Tubbo asks, chewing.

“Karl left already; said he had some business to attend to. I was thinking we could go do some exploring, maybe take a small road trip?” Wilbur sets some carrot slices to the side for Tubbo, packaging the rest.

Tommy perks up at the sound. “A road trip?”

“Well, I was thinking about it, and I think that while we’re in America, we should go out.”

Tubbo muses the thought. “We wouldn’t have a guide with Karl and Techno gone.”

“Don’t need them, just us and wherever the road takes us.” Of course, Wilbur fully intended on searching for Ranboo, but he felt that what Tommy said last night was true, and that they shouldn’t be kept in the dark.

“How long do you expect us to be gone? Karl might get lonely.” Tubbo spins in his chair.

“I think Karl will be alright.”

_Are you sure he’ll be alright?_

_Yes, Karl is an adult, he’ll be fine._

_What if he dies? What if he gets hurt? What if he gets kidnapped? What if-_

_Shut up._

“Wilbur? You good?” Tubbo asks the older man. Wilbur slowly blinks, awareness returning to him.

“I’m fine.” Wilbur dismisses, slightly embarrassed he had spaced out, rose dusting his cheeks. The younger of the two let it slide, but it was dually noted.

How could Wilbur go about telling them everything? Should he just blurt it, or should he have a long discussion? Is this what it’s like for Technoblade? Probably not, actually, Technoblade doesn’t stress over the small things.

“Well,” Tubbo looks over at Tommy, “we could opt to follow Dad’s book.”

A beat.

Tommy looks at Tubbo with wide eyes as Wilbur holds his mouth and stomach. Before anyone could help, Wilbur was leaning over the sink, hacking out his breakfast. Tommy jumped over the counter to pat the sickened man’s back in support. A glare is thrown towards the older teen.

“Oh.” Tubbo says, shocked at the happening, maybe a little overwhelmed about what he wasn’t supposed to say.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything!” Tommy hisses, red creeping up on his ears.

“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

The two argue as Wilbur wipes his mouth and sighs against the sink. The anxiety had been bubbling like a volcano inside of his stomach and hearing Tubbo acknowledge his father’s book was the finishing blow. It’s not that he was sick with the flu, it’s that he was sick with anxiety.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine.” The older man takes deep breathes, swallowing anything else that could come up. Tommy takes the retractable faucet and washes down the sink, plugging his nose.

Tubbo bowed his head with guilt, scratching his neck nervously. “I’m sorry Wilbur, I really didn’t mean to startle you that much.”

“It’s okay,” Wilbur promises, “it’s okay. Takes a little off my shoulders at the moment.”

“Right, right.”

It was obvious and inevitable that Tommy couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it, Wilbur felt a pang of guilt whilst realizing that Tommy would always tell Tubbo about everything. Especially since the main topic was trust and not leaving people not knowing.

“I didn’t want to drag you two into it,” confesses Wilbur, “It was Techno’s idea to bring you guys along. He wanted you guys because it involves Dad and it felt wrong to not tell you.”

“Does this relate to Technoblade’s absence?” Tubbo shifts his weight on his feet.

“Yes.”

“And… we’re…” Tommy hesitates on his words, “Are we looking for Dad?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

_It’ll be your fault if they get hurt._

_I know._

A beat.

“I don’t know what I’d say to him.” Tommy mutters, Tubbo nods his head in agreement. It’d been so long ago that their family was split, that every seeing their father again was out of the picture.

“I’d tell him to his face that he’s a dickhead.” Wilbur smiles to himself, filling a glass of water and sipping on it.

Tubbo fidgets with his hands. “I want to ask him why he left.” The other two looked up and nod approvingly.

“I think I’ll punch him in his nose.” Tommy decides, grinning.

Wilbur looks up. “I’d let you.”

“I’d join in.” Tubbo clasps his hands.

The three brothers laugh, taking in the moment. It’d be a difficult journey for everyone, the mental and physical stress was indefinite. Even so, they’ll stick with each other through thick and thin, no matter the cost. It’s what it meant to be a family, even with the unusual banter and lobbing of insults.

Tubbo straightens his posture as he takes his seat once more. “You think he still cares about us?”

“I don’t even think he’s still alive.” Tommy spat, not directed at Tubbo.

Wilbur slapped him upside the head, cursing him out. “Don’t say that!” he hisses as the teen groans indignantly.

“For his sake, I hope he is, because I’m going to fuck him up.” Tommy huffs, inching away from the angered adult. Wilbur softened at this and drew his lips into a thin line.

They stand in silence, processing everything. Tommy couldn’t even begin to know what to feel, and Tubbo was more confused and slightly scared. Wilbur knew it had been too long for Phil to be able to run away from them without some sort of retaliation. They could only hope that Technoblade was safe, Tommy most of all.

It would be a while before the secrets of the world would unfold, and for every puzzle piece to be found.

For the first puzzle piece, it’d have to start with the section of Phil’s journal, “Half n Half.”

A beat.

-0-

**Day 1: Half n’ Half.**

**Today I stumbled upon a peculiar creature, one that could only be described as split. For better of words, this creature was split between an entirely black and white body, right down the middle of its face. I’ve heard of this monster that lurked within the woods of a secluded area. Many reports say that this creature could disappear and reappear at any given time.**

**So, with full intent of interacting with this phenomenon, I ventured to the forest to spend two weeks there. After weeks of camping and searching, I spotted the lonely thing.**

**I can’t describe my reaction to seeing this creature disappear, or teleport really. Purple particles burst in the air, before being sucked back in as the creature reappeared.**

**I’m yet to reveal my presence, however I plan to once I figure out how. I hope this creature may pick up on English or some form of communication.**

**I sense it’s in pain.**

**-Phil.**

-0-

A road trip, in retrospect, was a good idea had not for the intolerable teens Wilbur had to babysit. Wilbur was driving the car, Tommy and Tubbo in the back. There was a vacancy in the passenger seat since Tubbo and Tommy fought over who gets to sit there.

“Tommy! Give me back my earbuds!” Tubbo shouts, despite Tommy sitting next to him.

“You took my pillow!” Tommy retorts, shoving the earbuds behind his back. To this, the older of the teenagers reached over Tommy’s lap in order to get to his possession.

“I was tired, dickhead!” comes the gruntled response.

“Both of you please!” Wilbur shouts over them, throwing a glare in the front mirror. “Shut up!”

“I would if Tommy just gave me my earbuds back,” Tubbo grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Tommy who was a smug as a fox; fair too pleased with getting a rise out of his friend.

Tommy blows a raspberry towards, “You have to give me _my_ pillow back, dickhead.”

Tubbo, currently losing his shit over this petty argument, threw Tommy’s pillow in his face angrily. Tommy grins from ear to ear, tossing the earbuds across the seats to the floor.

“I hate you.” Tubbo mutters half-heartedly.

“Well, you say that, and then you’re all clingy and shit.” Tommy leans against the window, pillow resting beneath his arm.

“Screw you.”

“You know it’s true!”

Tubbo didn’t respond, opting to stay silent to avoid more conflict. A small breath of relief escapes Wilbur whilst shifting his hands on the wheel. The road was long, but the stress was even longer. No one knew how long it’d be until the car explodes into arguing, but Wilbur hopes that with Tommy settling down that Tubbo’s blood pressure would lower. Seriously, that kid can be a monster when he’s tired.

“Only an hour until the next gas stop, okay? You guys gonna make it?” Wilbur adjusts his front mirror to see some sort of reaction.

Tommy grumbles, a small growl in the back of his throat, and throws an annoyed glare. On the contrary, Tubbo sighs and nods.

_They’re being annoying, crash the car._

_Shut up._

_Maybe then people will realize that you’re important once you’ve died…_

_Please shut up._

_I’m right._

“I disagree…” Wilbur mumbles to himself offhandedly. None of the teens heard it, so when Wilbur realized he had said it out loud, his anxiety stopped bubbling.

Before anyone knew it, the trio came upon a gas station. Wilbur gave Tommy and Tubbo some cash as he filled up the gas. Closing the latch, Wilbur opted to head inside to make sure Tommy and Tubbo weren’t causing any trouble for unsuspecting workers.

Instead of trouble per say, Tubbo was happily chatting up the cashier as Tommy picked out snacks. Somewhere out there, in some other dimension, Wilbur had to have screamed.

“Oh, Wil, you’ll never guess what he kind of stories this guy has!” Tubbo greeted Wilbur with a small smile and wave.

“This shithole doesn’t have Cola!” Tommy lobbed from the other side of the small joint.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur hisses, motioning for Tommy to cut it out. Wilbur goes to apologize to the poor worker, but they were already laughing up a storm with Tubbo.

“Surely not!” Tubbo cackles, “He tripped? That’s so anticlimactic.” The usually introverted boy seemed to love chatting up with the worker, even despite his exhaustion.

“Yeah, he tripped and then fell into a ditch, end of story,” Tommy came by and dropped of snacks, to which the worker began to scan. “You ever heard of the wild beast living’ around these parts? They call him Split!”

Wilbur’s interest peaked. “Split?” Ranboo?

“Split is a wild creature that teleports around, terrorizin’ any ‘n all travelers. I’d hate to see such nice people like you being spooked by that thing, it’s really terrifyin’!” The worker looks earnest in their words. “Legend says that if you look directly into its eyes, your body’ll never be found!”

“Really?” Tubbo asks incredulously. “Wilbur, you think that’s the guy we’re looking for?”

The worker seemed genuinely shocked, “You’re lookin’ for it? You bounty hunters? Been seenin’ some hunters goin’ out there ‘n never returning.”

“I guess we’re kind of like bounty hunters in a sense… we’re actually looking for our dad.” Tommy pops by again, dumping drinks onto the counter.

“Was your father a hunter huntin’ around these parts? I might’ve seen him I reckon.”

“Maybe, I don’t know how long it’s been since he’s been here,” Wilbur explains, glancing to the side. “I think he was searching for Split. His name is Phil, uh, he’s an older man with shoulder length hair, kind of a scratchy beard?”

“Oh boy do I know Phil! He came around these parts a couple years ago, spouting some nonsense about needin’ to go out and find Split! Crazy fellow, couldn’t forget him.” The cashier seemed to reminisce in memories whilst the odd family’s eyes widened.

“You knew our father? Do you know where he is?” Tommy asks hurriedly.

They hesitate. “Well, I, the first time I met him was the last time as well. Haven’t heard from him since he departed into the forest. I’d hate to think he never left, but it- “

_Phil’s body will never be found, he’s long dead. Two years is long enough for remains._

_Shut up._

_I guess it’s better to live in ignorance…_

“He’s alive,” Wilbur stiffly says, “We know he’s alive, we just don’t know where he is.”

“If you see him… I suppose say hello from lil old me.”

Wilbur’s heart panged with pain, hearing that someone who, as far as anyone knew, tell them their father is dead. He doesn’t waste a second to walk out of the store, teens in tow.

“Wha-Wilbur, what you’re doing?” Tubbo askes, tripping over a parking lot bump.

“I don’t like that fellow, okay? Gave me bad vibes.” Was the quipped answer.

“Dickhead…” Tommy mutters under his breath, opening his side of the car. To whom that lovely compliment was aimed for is up for interpretation.

Wilbur picks up their father’s journal and placed it on the center console of the car. The teens lean forward in their seats as Wilbur flips to a journal entry.

“We have dad’s book, it’s all we need. We know that Phil entered this forest, but since the entries start to... dwindle in numbers, it’s safe to assume this journal was found not too long after Phil dropped it. I don’t know how Techno got a hold of this, but it’s not too late to assume that it wasn’t left for us.” Wilbur explains, flipping through the end of the book. His finger points to the last entry.

“Day 52. I contacted Split for the first time in a few weeks. This time, he did not teleport away from me, and instead hesitantly dropped a book he’d been carrying. God knows how big that thing is and how he manages to lug it around. He spoke to me in some sort of grunt, like he was nervous and couldn’t talk.

“After some time, Split said one word to me: Phil. He knew my name, which is weird considering I’d never openly said my name. After I responded with a “Hello mate!” he’d disappear once more. I believe that he cannot control his teleportation, but the fact he’d said my name satisfies me for the next few weeks.

“I won’t be writing in here as often, but I think I won’t need to write in here. I’m a step closer to_--__-_-_--______-_-_---__- “The trio read in their minds.

“So…” Tommy ponders, “You’re saying he was looking for something?”

“Technoblade believes that Phil is looking for something called ‘Wither bones’, a type of bones that assemble a skeleton that could kill everyone.” Will could have been clearer on his words, but they’d just have to see the reports on their own.

“Magical bones that fuck you up, huh?” Tommy muses, stroking his chin with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” Tubbo denies. The latter seemed offended.

Wilbur flips to a couple other pages, listing off the various findings including the timeline of Wither bones with a few extra reports Wilbur grabbed from Techno’s office.

“Is this real life?” Tubbo reads a report, following along with his finger. Tommy looks over at Tubbo’s paper and an instant face of distress was displaced.

“That’s a dead body?” Tommy revolted. Wilbur nods his head reluctantly, thinking back to his own reaction.

“The effects of Wither bones are terrifying and the fact that people randomly came across them is even worse. I think Phil had a separate journal; one he probably has right now. Some of this research is spotty.”

Tommy swallowed a lump in his throat, “Technoblade is… he’s at the forefront of this isn’t he?” Wilbur gravely nods. “He’s a dumbass.”

“A smart dumbass, at least.” Will shrugs.

“While we’re on the line of dumbasses, Phil has more journals, right? Does that mean there’s even more to it?” Tubbo grabs another report, skimming.

“It’s a given at this point. He’s a smart man, if he had all of his research in one book, that means it’d be easier to steal. I reckon he’s stashed them.”

_Even your father was a sick liar. Glad to see it runs in the family._

_Stop talking._

_Your father didn’t trust anyone, reminds me of a certain someone…_

_You don’t know anything about me, I trust everyone._

_What if they betray you?_

_I trust they won’t. Isn’t that the point of trust?_

“So, are we going out to look for Split? Or Half ‘n Half, I guess.” Tommy fumbled with his words.

“Yeah,” Wilbur grabs a drink from the bag, inspecting the contents, “Arnold Palmer?”

Tommy shrugs, taking the can from Will’s hands, “Well, I mean it looks good? Half lemonade, half tea? It’s no Cola, but it sounded good enough.”

That works out way too coincidentally.

“There’s no hotels around, and it’s already getting dark. We might have to camp out in the parking lot.” Wilbur checks the car clock with a grimace. The two in the back let out a groan stringing along with complaints and insults.

“Hate to see it.” Tubbo sorrowfully chuckles, throwing his arm over his eyes. He adjusted the seat angle so that it was as horizontal as it could be. Tommy took notes.

“You hate to see it…” Tommy shakes his head, “You hate to see it…” It sounded more like a whine than random muttering.

“Well, get comfortable I guess?” Wilbur tries to lighten the mood, but in return he just got the low hums of discontent. “We have enough snacks for tomorrow, so I’ll think we’ll be fine on that.”

“It’ll be so damn cold…!” Tubbo drawls.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we have enough heat to get to sleep.” Will promises, fully intending on staying up all night. If there was one thing Wilbur could do good, it’d be not taking care of himself. Well, okay, he’s rather good at music and creating content, but that’s beside the point.

The dreams he’s been having lately have made him incredulously anxious to even close his eyes. It was like there was white noise every time he blinked. Could’ve been chalked down due to lack of sleep, however the dreams-or rather nightmares-have been leaving him tense about people. Last night… well last night was hell.

“As long as you don’t stay up too late… we have some monster hunting to do…” Tubbo murmured under his breath. He grabs his bag from the back of the car and sifts through to find his blanket and pillows.

“That’s true,” Wilbur laughs, “Get some extra sleep.”

“I am quite tired.”

Tommy didn’t respond, instead he was burning holes into the car interior whilst on his side curled up. Wilbur picks up a blanket from the floor and tosses it over Tommy.

“I don’t need your pity blanket.” Tommy grunts.

“It’s your blanket?”

“I don’t care. You’re a dickhead.”

“Why am I the dickhead?”

“You are just a… dick.”

Wilbur sighs against his seat with a deep breath. The cellular data wasn’t strong around these parts, so texting anyone would just be a headache in itself. He resolved to keep a small light on to read throughout the night.

The moonlight shown through crevices of tree leaves, light dancing on any and all surfaces. The crickets hummed in the background, only the sound of bushes twitching with animal activity ever making any other sounds.

After a few hours of small chatter, small snores were heard. For a restful moment, the weight of the world was off of Wilbur’s shoulder as he dwelled in the presence of family. Sure, their family was weird and partially dysfunctional, it wasn’t like Wilbur really felt like he wanted to be a part of a different family; couldn’t imagine himself being brothers to anyone else other than the dipshits he ended up with.

So sure, Wilbur preferred to be with people he’s known since forever, what’s weird with that? Family is weird as shit, and there’s certainly days where hatred was in the equation. The tall tale stories and memories they’d all shared was extensive, far more than what they all could recall.

Like the day Tommy had lost a tooth and wailed his ass off as Tubbo hurriedly grabbed tissues screaming “He’s going to die!” which was absolutely terrifying to hear from small children. Wilbur, as young as he was-maybe 12 or 13, nearly had a heart attack.

Another time, Tubbo was temporarily lost when he ran off into a field because he saw a bee. Granted, he was 7. Technoblade ended up scaling a few miles of land before coming home with a small sleeping Tubbo on his back.

When Phil left when Wilbur and Technoblade were 12, he made the twins grow up. There wasn’t a day were Wilbur and Techno could be kids, instead they had to act as the parents at Tommy and Tubbo needed.

Wilbur remembers the last night the family was whole, the last night Wilbur was a kid.

“Where are you going Dad?” Wilbur had asked his father as he gathered mountains of papers.

Phil looked over fondly and messed up the smaller kids hair. “I just have something to do at the office, okay?”

“It’s raining…” Will reminded Phil.

Phil hummed a reply, pulling out his three journals and pushing them in the back of his bag. Technoblade entered the room, pulling on Wilbur’s arm.

“Tommy wants you.” Techno hadn’t been one to talk as much, mostly keeping to himself at this age. The only time he’d ever talk extensively was with Phil by themselves, something to do with Techno’s curiosity in their father’s work.

There was wailing coming from the next room over, presumably Tommy. Technoblade eyed Phil’s bag before glancing up at him.

“You’re leaving?” Techno asked, a small glint in his eyes like he was about to cry. Wilbur hadn’t realized the waver in his voice.

Phil pressed his lips into a thin line. “Work is calling. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It may be a few days, but I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

Wilbur noted how Phil opted to comfort his twin rather than him when they posed the same question.

“Okay,” Technoblade shifted on his feet as he left the conversation, exchanging nervous glances with his father. Wilbur followed hesitantly, watching as Phil packed his office.

Their father was a liar, they learned that after a week of his disappearance. The twins called anyone they could, all except for 911. When no one had answered their desperate cries for help, it was inevitable that there was no time to enjoy being a kid anymore. Technoblade spoke less words and talked in grunts. Wilbur worked multiple random jobs, just to put food on the table.

The house was empty, no longer full of laughter. Dust collected everywhere, and water was cut off at one point. The twins put their head into books to graduate early in order to get real jobs.

Technoblade left the house for good at age 18 whilst Tommy and Tubbo were 13 at the time. Wilbur stayed, in hope that he could salvage a bond with his younger brothers.

When Techno left, Tommy was the most devastated of all. He had looked up to Technoblade’s knowledge and intelligence. Tommy had been getting bullied at one point, to which Technoblade quickly took care of. Technoblade taught Tommy every dick move in the book so that Tommy could manage himself in a fight.

After Technoblade left, Tommy clung to Wilbur, the only positive role model he could have.

The thought of looking their father in the eye terrified Wilbur. There had been times where Wilbur couldn’t look at the shattered picture frames that he had thrown in another fit of anger.

It was all so surreal; finally getting answers. As Wilbur sat in the driver’s seat of the car, the wind picked up.

Squeaks, or rather mumbling, filled the car. Wilbur looked back to see Tommy shifting in his seat uncomfortably. His face was creased, a line of sweat forming at his ruffled hair.

“Tommy?” Wilbur shook Tommy’s leg a bit. The former shivered in his seat, even with his blanket.

“Tommy, Toms, wake up.” Wilbur whispers, nervously glancing at the sleeping form of Tubbo. Tommy hummed a whine, so Wilbur shook him a bit harder. Disorientated, Tommy opened his thick crusted eyes.

“Tommy?” Wilbur questions gently. Tommy blinks, pulling his fist to his eyes and rubbing.

“Wilbur?” comes the quiet response. A cough seemed lodged in his throat.

“Are you okay?”

Tommy coughs in his arms, wiping away sleepy tears. “I-I’m fine. Sorry for disturbing you…” He was flustered.

Wilbur purses his lips, “Bad dream?”

Eyes shift away, “Yeah… I guess it was…”

It had been a while since Wilbur had caught Tommy in the middle of a nightmare, years even. Each time, Wilbur coaxed Tommy to talk about it, in hopes to ease the frightened boy, and each time Tommy fell into a restless sleep.

“Want to talk about it?”

Tommy swallows thickly, rubbing his hands together. “Just another bad dream, I guess…”

“Is it the same one as before?”

“Yeah. This time Tubbo was dying in my arms again, half of his face was burnt. Technoblade had…” Tommy’s voice cracked, “Technoblade had did it. And you were there, but it wasn’t really you I think… like a crazy version of you… you… you were laughing.”

That was new, admittedly. “And what did I do afterwards?”

“I think there was an explosion?” A breath escaped Wilbur’s lips.

“Did… did you die?”

“No… I think… I think you did.” Tommy swallows a lump in his throat.

“I did?” Wilbur says softly, curious if that had something to do with the younger having a tear streaks down his cheeks.

Tommy wipes his eyes again, “You were stabbed I think, by some dude with wings.”

Wilbur laughs, trying to lighten the mood “I was killed by an angel? Seems sweet for a nightmare.”

Tommy shakes his head, “No, you… you were begging to die because I think you set off the bombs.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A silent moment passed.

“Well, I’m not a pyromaniac, thankfully. It was just a dream, Toms. Tubbo’s okay and so am I.”

Tommy pulls his knees to his chest. “It felt too real. I thought you actually died. It felt like it was my fault that you died. I hate that feeling.”

“I get it. We’ll figure it out, do you feel like going back to sleep?”

Tommy looks up at Wilbur and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Wilbur comforts, “I haven’t slept either.”

Curiosity flickered in Tommy’s eyes as he asked what they were about.

“Well, I’m usually overwhelmed with emotions and I don’t remember them, but I remember one where Technoblade had killed an entire subway of people. It was horrible.” Wilbur shifted in his seat. He would try to be the best role model he could for Tommy, so maybe if he shared his feelings, Tommy would.

“Really?”

“The worst part of it? I woke up in Karl’s place with this annoying ass kid.”

“Well, fuck you too…”

They laugh together as the atmosphere lightens and the air becomes more breathable.

It felt as though these happy moments would last forever. Some of that was true.

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**This night could last forever, I sincerely hope it does. Moments that the weight of the world is periodically off of our shoulders is relieving. Seeing everyone smile and sing as the fire dances in the sky. I don’t want to go to sleep, I want to laugh and joke until the sun rises. I’m alive, I’ve made it this far. This journey has been so long, but I hope this book finally closes. I’m sick of the fighting, of the war, of the bloodshed. I hate having to risk lives in order to be free.**

**I’m free. Even with… even with him gone, I feel that he died a long time ago, so I don’t know how to mourn him. I have my home, my people. Without him… it doesn’t feel the same, like we’re missing someone. He was with us when we built this nation and now, he’s gone. I feel like everyone hates me, or is expecting a lot from me, even when I just want to live out my teens.**

**I hate war, I hate crying, I hate losing my family. The only family I have now was never my family to begin with, no offense. My brothers, hate saying it, abandoned me and my father went after the same one who helped destroy my home.**

**I have one more fight and then it’s over. Just one more.**

**I miss being a kid.**

**-Author, unknown.**

_[Betrayal within family? A nation was destroyed by the author’s brothers, even being accompanied afterwards by their father. The child soldier.]_

-0-

“I could kill god!” Tommy screams running into the forest, narrowing avoiding various branches and fallen trees. Wilbur and Tubbo walked behind, admiring the scenery.

Despite the loud yelling of the youngest teen, birds continued to perch high on their nests, chirping away. It didn’t matter that it had been an extremely late night for Wilbur and Tommy, the energy was all the same as the day before. There hadn’t been a dull moment yet.

“What were you guys talking about last night?” Tubbo asks, flipping through Phil’s book.

“Hm… well, we had a long discussion on dreams and then getting women strangely enough.” Wilbur’s smile laced his words. Tubbo nods in his head in empathy, being a victim of Tommy’s constant rambles about women.

“What kind of dreams?” Tubbo looked up, “I had a pretty weird one. I think it was about flamingos…”

Wilbur hesitates, blinking slowly, “Flamingos… there wasn’t any flamingos, but there were explosions.”

Tubbo pauses for moment, but not from walking. “Oh, I didn’t know he told you about his nightmares.”

A glance to the side, “Yeah, the nightmares.”

Tubbo hums, nodding along. He looks down at the book again before pointing in a direction. “I think we’re coming up on something. Tommy slow down!”

“Fuck you bitch, I do what I want!” Tommy screams, a few meters ahead. The two start yelling at each other, bickering like friends do. It ends with Tommy running back to tackle Tubbo to the ground.

After dusting off dirt and leaves, Tubbo grumbles, “Okay, I think Phil marked a tree so he wouldn’t get lost… should be somewhere around here.”

Tommy walks ahead again, surveying the area before jumping off a fallen tree. “I think I see something!”

“Tommy be careful!” Wilbur hollers, using his hands to amplify his voice.

Wilbur pushes away a curtain of leaves, peering into a whole new world. It was a beach side view—an oasis of sorts, with seagulls shrieking in the distance as some dipped low to the slow tides, looking for fish. Tommy had already taken off his shoes and dipped in the water.

An excited breath escapes Tubbo as he brashly jumps down the small hill to the beach. He runs, skipping slightly, while taking off his shoes. The sun draped the land in warmth and comfort.

Wilbur hesitates, taking a step forward.

_“Look at the ocean Wilbur! It’s so clear!” Tommy splashes salty water into Tubbo’s eyes, laughing hysterically._

_“Please be careful!” Wilbur shouted._

_A grin ensues, before laughter rings through the day. A sword glints._

It takes a moment, a lump forming in his throat. The world had almost turned upside down, but the honey sweet laughter that erupted from the overjoyed teens snapped him out.

“Come on you bitch!” Tommy screams, glancing for only a moment towards the older man before being bombarded with water.

A short breath, a long smile, Wilbur was home.

It could’ve been hours that the boys scoured the beach, picking up shells and peculiar rocks. At one point, Tubbo had found a small fox burrowed. Much to Wilbur’s detest, the fox was named “Squeaks” even with Wilbur’s nagging that it would be harder to leave the pet.

The fox leapt out of Tubbo’s arms and scurried away in the unknown forest. Tubbo had only cried a little.

It’s tender moments like these that makes Will wonder if Phil leaving was all that bad.

It’s a thought that’s pushed away.

Noon came and the tired teens dragged themselves to the beachside sand where Wilbur unpacked his bags and handed out pretzel sticks and Arnold Palmer. Nothing beats sipping on tea and lemonade after exploring a secluded lake in the middle of a supposedly dangerous forest.

All throughout the family’s excursion, Split was yet to make an appearance or even a trace. Which was fine, it was fine, the day could be spent just on themselves, right? The clock was ticking.

Tubbo hummed lowly, a pretzel stick in the side of his mouth. “So, when do you think Splits is gonna make an appearance?”

Tommy rolls his eyes, “Can we just forget about this for a fucking minute?”

Tubbo shoots a glare at the younger teen, “Yeah but I’d quite like to see something cool.”

“Well, I think this is cool, so suck it up.”

Wilbur tossed a stick at Tommy playfully, “Tubbo has a point, we do have a reason to be here other than lazing around.” _Even though I really don’t want to leave,_ was an afterthought.

“You guys are pussies.” Tommy grunts, brushing off himself and pulling his tee shirt over his head. Even though Tommy disagreed the entire time, he continued to get ready to start to explore again.

An hour passes much to Wilbur’s dissent; spent mostly on avoiding holes and running streams. The only thing they could follow was a description of a small camp in the middle of a towering forest. Fun.

Just as Wilbur takes a deep breath, a familiar dust catches his side eye. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Exhale. A start. Splits may be making an appearance finally. Inhale.

“I think we’re near,” Wilbur announces, rubbing the purple dust in between his pointer finger and thumb.

A small cheer from Tubbo and Tommy makes Wilbur smile.

“We can finally go home!” Tommy throws his hands in the air, grinning from ear to ear.

“Something like that, I guess.” Wilbur shrugs, surveying the area with a scrutinizing eye. To his excitement, Wilbur saw a colorful explosion, just like the one in his dream.

“This way!” Wilbur shouted, lightly jogging as the teenagers followed in a merry pursuit.

Another burst. Change of direction.

Burst. That’s the opposite of where they just were.

Burst. Turn right-

Burst. No, left?

Burst and-

“Ah!” a familiar lanky body screams as it was being tackled by an upset Tommy. Excitement rushes through Wilbur as he approaches the creature slowly.

“Hello?” Wilbur asks softly, holding out the palms of his hands to seem less threatening. The creature blinked quickly, showing off it’s red and green eyes. A quick breath.

It opens it’s mouth nervously and out comes a garble of noise that was otherworldly. A shiver went down everyone’s spine.

“Is your name Ranboo by chance?”

Tubbo softly exhales at the name.

Ranboo was surprised to hear his own name from these strangers, but he knew he’d have to console his book to see if they were people he’d met along the way. He glances up at Tommy hoping that he’d understand he wouldn’t understand.

“Hello! Hello, hi.” Ranboo rambles hastily, anxiously glancing at everyone in the vicinity.

Tommy is taken aback by the creature’s perfect English and screams. Tubbo whacks Tommy upside the head telling him to shut up.

Wilbur exchanges glares with his younger brother, “Ranboo, your name is Ranboo?”

“I thought he was called Splits…” Tommy comments, rolling his eyes. “What kind of shit name is Ranboo?”

Ranboo frowns, feeling every-so slightly offended. “I may not remember a lot, but I remember making my name.” Tommy shifts uncomfortably, realizing he was receiving back talk from a weird humanoid thing.

Wilbur pulls out the note in his pocket and unravels it, showing it to Ranboo in the palm of his hand. “You write this to me, you told me to remember and I did.” Ranboo inspects it, narrowing his eyes at the message before looking up.

“That’s a lot coming from me, I barely remember who I am at some points!” He laughs to himself, “I’ll check my book for you, but it’ll be a hot sec, so please wait. I have quite an extensive memory book!” Just as he did in Wilbur’s dream, he digs in his pocket and pulls out a book three times the size of anything that could remotely fit inside.

Tubbo’s eyes sparkles as Tommy takes a step back. “That’s so cool!”

Ranboo seems to be surprised by the way that Tubbo had been yet to treat him weirdly as opposed to Tommy who wasn’t taking in everything nice.

“Ah yes, it’s my memory book! Impressive right?” Ranboo feels himself becoming giddy with excitement, it’s been a while since he’s talked to someone so nice.

“So, you forget things easily and you write it down? That’s a huge book!” Tubbo kneels on the ground next to Ranboo and Wilbur. Tommy remained standing. Ranboo nods swiftly, smiling.

Ranboo flips through the book for a few moments, that felt like it lasted days. As Ranboo read, Tommy began to fidget nervously and felt his patience wanning. Wilbur thinks for a moment, before saying his piece.

“If it helps anything, you told me to relay a message.” Ranboo curiously looks up, tilting his head to the side. “You told me to tell…” Recognition flickers in Ranboo’s beady eyes, “… Tubbo hello, I think.”

Tubbo flinches at his name, but not in a negative connotation, more that he was surprised.

Ranboo blinks blankly for another long minute, before taking a shaky breath looking at everyone’s eyes.

“Tubbo… and Tommy and oh my goodness Wilbur!” Ranboo bursts into a purple cloud of dust once more before reappearing a meter away. The trio coughs in their arms waving away the purple particles.

“What the fuck, how do you know our names?” Tommy yells, however, Ranboo doesn’t pay attention to his words and envelops Tubbo in a hug.

“It’s been forever! Oh my god, I haven’t seen a Tubbo in so many years!” Ranboo laughs shakily as he beams with excitement.

“A what?” Tubbo smiles, but he’s deeply confused as to why a creature referred to him as “a Tubbo” when as far he’s concerned, there’s only one of him. “Have I been cloned by the government? I reckon it’s the blood drives that did it-“

Tubbo is cut off by another tight hug, but he doesn’t protest and hugs the humanoid anyway.

“Oh god, I’ve been alone for so long, I just- “his voice cracks, “I forgot what you sounded like. Forgive me, please, I really didn’t mean to forget you! Time just slipped by and I got lost in this forest and- “a shaky breath, “I miss you.”

Tubbo hesitated to pat his back but proceeded to do so anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to show some sort of compassion for this creature in such pain. “I… I miss you too?” He throws a SOS signal to Wilbur.

Ranboo sinks into Tubbo’s arms in a fit of wails. Tommy, dumbfounded by the entirety of this happening, huffed at Ranboo’s clinginess to his best friend. Steam could’ve been shooting from Tommy’s ears at this point.

Tubbo tries to console Ranboo as Wilbur reaches for the large memory book. Ranboo shoots up, knocking over Tubbo in the process, clutching his memory book close to himself. The same strange noises deafen the trio.

“Don’t touch it!” Ranboo screamed, exploding in a fit of purple particles once more. Wilbur could sense that there was no way that Ranboo could control his teleportation and that it must be a symptom of high emotions.

Tommy is on guard, pulling out a pocketknife. Tubbo hits the knife out of Tommy’s hand to the ground; Tommy doesn’t take liking to this. “What the fuck Tubbo!”

“We’re not going to hurt him!” Tubbo hisses, grabbing the knife from the floor before Tommy could.

“He’s insane! How are you not seeing this, this is just some supernatural bullshit! Talking about missing you when you haven’t even met before? Tubbo, the guy’s a fucking maniac!” Tommy angrily retorts, red flushing his face.

“So, what does that make you? You pulled out a knife on a mentally ill man, are you stupid or are you just brain dead?” Tubbo shouts back, causing Tommy to bite his tongue for once. “I follow you in everything you do, don’t make me regret it.”

It had been a hot minute since Tubbo had been genuinely angry at Tommy, and this side of Tubbo wasn’t to be reckoned with. The fires of feud flickered.

“Then listen to me! I don’t trust this guy one bit, alright?”

Tubbo grimaces grimly before slowly nodding. “Okay, okay. I won’t.”

An explosion of purple disrupts the forest once more, this time Ranboo walked sheepishly up to the tense trio. Ranboo scratches the back of his neck, not looking anyone in the eyes.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to get upset or be a bother… I can’t show anyone my memory book not even you guys…” Ranboo apologizes, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Tommy’s eyes are unmoving as he stares down Ranboo.

“How the fuck are we supposed to trust you?” Tommy gripes harshly.

Ranboo hesitates, recognizing the aura of protectiveness around Tommy as he shielded Tubbo with his arm. “You don’t have to… but I’d prefer if you would?”

Tommy’s gaze falter, trying to understand what the creature was telling him. “You… what?”

“I mean, it would do all us a favor if you, uh, y’know trusted me,” Ranboo scrambled for words, blush creeping up on his face. “I mean, you don’t have to but… I, uh, I don’t intend on hurting anyone. Especially not any of you guys, you guys were like a family to me.”

Wilbur opens his mouth, “You’re going to have to explain that bit, if you don’t mind.”

Ranboo looks over at Wilbur with a pitiful expression, “The truth will be very difficult to explain and take in. So, forgive me if I have to take time in between for you to… understand?”

Tommy shifts on his feet before sitting down on a tree stump heavily. He leans on his knees with his elbows propped up, head in hands. “Well get on with it, we don’t have all day.”

Ranboo gives a reassuring smile. “I will, please be patient.”

Tubbo and Wilbur shake their hands in affirmation as Ranboo sits down, book in lap. He flips through some pages, before settling on a chapter.

“I guess it started a while ago, before I had a home…”

-0-

A lone figure stands idly in a tall spruce forest, seemingly with no direction. The sun was setting over the horizon, much to the figure’s dismay. The air was becoming icy cold, a puff of hot air escapes his noes as he huffs out deep breaths.

How long had it been since he’d seen a person; a real person? The shadows would never count as people, no matter how much they whisper harshly near his ears. He’d wince them away and waved off the ones that would try to grab him. It would be easier if he’d let the shadows swallow him in a cold blanket, but something told him he’d be close.

So, he continues to mindlessly wander the forest, until reaching a scathed area, one that that held a billowing stone tower, the remnants of humans left behind like discarded trash in the wind. And that’s when he found a direction, when he found a stone path towards an even bigger tower. He’s excited, he’s hopeful, there’s something he can touch!

And so there he stood, at the top of a hill, hand touching a cold tower as he realizes what had happened.

The area was only but a crater, a symbol of destruction. Confusion waved over the figure as he clenched his fist in his clothes. Smoke spiraled with the wind, ashes covering a majority of the wasteland. Was this the place he was meant to be? Why was this place calling to him?

And that’s when he hears the shuffling of leaves, or steps to be concise. He turns around to face a younger boy, possible 16. He was donned in a green cloak, bandages wrapping around his face and down his arm. The teen was brown haired, eyes wide eyed, but intensely scarred. Like he had seen the destruction that laid before his eyes.

“Who are you?” The teen asks thickly with an accent.

A garble of noise escapes the figure’s mouth as he fell to his knees, hands over mouth. He couldn’t cry, it would hurt him, but his eyes felt all the same. The teen hurries to the ground in a sweep.

“I’m sorry to startle you, I didn’t mean to.” The teen clasps his hands together like he’d pray for forgiveness. The man peeked through his parted fingers slowly, lip quivering.

“No, I-I’m sorry!” The creature frantically rushes, trying to comfort the teen.

The teen exhales in relief, smiling up. “It’s not your fault, please forgive me. My name’s Tubbo.”

The man uncovers his face, hope rising in his stomach. “My… my name is Ranboo.”

The man-Ranboo, shifts on his knees as Tubbo extends his hand to help Ranboo to his feet. “Well, that’s a pretty cool name, isn’t it? How’d you find this place, Ranboo?” Tubbo didn’t say Ranboo’s name right, but Ranboo could never correct him.

Ranboo hesitates, “I was just, uh, wandering around and I stumbled around this place. What… what happened here?”

Tubbo’s expression turns grim, as he glances to the side. “War happened. But’s over and now we’re going to rebuild this place. I don’t reckon you could stay a while, would you?”

Ranboo’s ears perked up as he lets out excited shaky breaths. “Yes, yes! I mean, if you’d let me of course, I don’t mean to intrude on anything, really. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, so if I mess up it’s okay if you don’t me around anymore.”

Tubbo softens, extending his arm onto Ranboo’s shoulder. “You need a home, correct?” Ranboo nods, “Then this’ll be your new home, you can’t be kicked out of it.”

The kindness in Tubbo’s words warmed Ranboo’s chilly heart. “You would really let me stay? I don’t have much to offer, I just… I’m a no one.”

“Not anymore you aren’t, plus you’ve always been someone. You know, I… I felt the same way some time ago, but now I’ve got a makeshift family,” Tubbo smiles earnestly, “And I would never turn away anyone.”

“Family?” Ranboo mutters, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a family. I’m sorry in advance if I mess up…”

Tubbo pulls Ranboo to his side as he peers out over the crater, eyes set on the setting sun. He looks to the side a moment before nodding. “Welcome to L’Manburg, Ranboo. I think you’ll like it here. Nobodies perfect around these parts, I’d be a hypocrite to turn you away if you make a mistake.”

The sun glows warmly on Tubbo’s freckled cheeks, and it must’ve been at this moment that the shadows slinked away by themselves without Ranboo ever thinking about it.

“Your kind of short Tubbo,” Ranboo blurts without thinking, not knowing that he himself was a giant to any other average person. Tubbo lets out a groan.

“Well, you’re a giraffe,” Tubbo sticks out his tongue in a friendly manner, blowing a small raspberry. “I’m average you see, wait till you see- “ _Wilbur._

He pauses in his words, blinking away the thought. “Wait till you see Tommy, he’s also pretty tall.”

“How many people are there?” Ranboo curiously asks.

Tubbo thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers. “Well, there’s me and Tommy. There’s big sister Niki and her new friend Puffy. Then there’s Alex, but we call him Quackity. There’s Fundy who’s a fox and… and Jack Manifold! Jack Manifold is so cool.”

“Are they your family?”

“Sort of, it’s kind of complicated. But I’d consider them all family.” Tubbo speaks a little more quietly.

A glance to the side, “Your family seems full, could I even fit in?”

“Surely not,” Tubbo laughs sarcastically, “Family is much more than just fitting in.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I… I don’t really know how families work.” Ranboo explains thickly as Tubbo hums in acknowledgment.

“Neither do I.” Tubbo’s voice was distant,” We all don’t really have families, so we stuck together and made one.”

“So,” Ranboo continues, “We could be family?”

Tubbo nods, “Yeah! Family is quite powerful around here.”

“What does that mean?”

On a grimmer note, “Family is what caused… this. But it’s never happening again. It’s going to be peaceful around here, in fact I’m going to be the president!”

Ranboo’s shocked expression tore a laugh through Tubbo’s throat. “President? But you’re like 16?”

Tubbo dismisses it, “You’d be surprised on what 16 year old’s can do around here. It’ll be different from what you may have experienced, but I’d happy to show you the ropes.”

“I’ve never had a family before; I haven’t seen anyone in forever. I’ve kind of been wandering around aimlessly.” Ranboo laughs it off as a joke, but deep inside his brain was stabbing him.

“Congrats on your new home!” Tubbo exclaims, dragging Ranboo’s hand along as he run down the hill. “Last one to the caravan is not poggers!”

“What the hell is poggers- “Ranboo says before being interrupted by him tripping over a small wheat farm. He hears the sound of jovial laughter as he looks up from the dirt he’d fell into.

There he see’s a new hope, a new beginning. Two teens, followed by three older men and two older women all collapsed into laughter, Tubbo included. The sun shone through like light bubble as the brightness drowns the shadows.

This is home, this is sanctuary.

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**I think I found what I’ve always wanted. I found a place to belong, a place to remember. I don’t want to forget them; I don’t want to leave them. A family. I have a family. The voices are only murmuring now, thank goodness.**

**Things are looking up for me finally. I hope that I remember what I need to remember. I don’t want to hurt anyone by forgetting something important.**

**I want to remember all of them. You must remember them.**

**Friends:**

**Tubbo (best friend)**

**Tommy (debatable)**

**Niki (big sister)**

**Puffy (like a mother)**

**Jack (cool dude!)**

**Fundy (his mom was a what-)**

**Quackity (funny guy)**

**Enemies:**

**Dream (?) (have you seen him before?)**

**You are loved and wanted.**

**-Ranboo**

-0-

Whispering, fading, distracting, crying, where are you, who is he, does he remember, will he remember? Chant it, scream it, rip it, pull it, tear it, bite it. Is it worth it? Is it worth the satisfaction? Does he know what he’s doing? Is there anything he can do to stop? There’s a figure, of course there’s two.

Home, protect, love, security, happiness, hearth, what does he want? He wants home, he wants love, he wants to be cared for, he wants it to end, he wants everyone to be safe. Have to do what you can to live, have to do save the ones you love. It’s pure, he’s pure, he is glowing white. Is he an angel?

War, hate, screaming, vile, more screaming, injury, what does he want? He wants to tear it apart at the seams and watch it crumble. He wants to see the threads untangle as people scream. Scream, he must scream, it’s funny isn’t it? It’s funny to watch them struggle. Does it matter anymore, can you blame him? He’s dark, he’s impure, he’s hatred. Is he the devil?

No, no, no he can’t choose between good and bad, he doesn’t have the right to judge them, he’s just a conscious. Don’t think about it, don’t remember it, just carry on and look away from those two. They don’t matter… do he matter?

If he were to disappear would it matter to anyone? Would anyone cry, or is it a happy thing that he’s gone? Should people cheer out as his body is buried or should they weep and protest? Is he worth the pain?

How, how, how did he die, how does he know he died, he’s dead! He’s dead, he’s gone, he’s forgotten, they’ve carried on, what does it matter if he vanishes?

But he doesn’t vanish, he swims in the dark abyss of memories that were being erased as he remembered them. He feels pain, he feels sorrow and regret, what did he do to deserve this?

Oh. Oh right. He wouldn’t remember his death and how he fell like Icarus with melted wax wings.

He’s Icarus.

Icarus.

Falling and falling in despair.

The waves will eat him up.

Will he survive?

No, he can’t survive the fall.

The fall of Icarus, yes, he won’t survive.

He’ll die.

And what of Daedalus? What will he do?

Daedalus, who cares? Icarus has fallen.

Daedalus cared for Icarus; does he not weep?

He weeps.

The waves are tearing him apart.

Is he dead now?

He’s in agony, he is not dead yet.

Gods have mercy, Icarus should’ve never gotten to close to the sun.

He was too close to something great.

Icarus was mortal.

He must act like a mortal.

Icarus was young.

He deserved punishment.

Icarus was hopeful.

He needed to fall.

Icarus wanted to touch freedom.

So, he has to betray Daedalus and fly too close?

Icarus was tired of the land.

Who was Icarus?

He’s Icarus.

Who?

Him.

Wibur Soot?

Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Wilbur, left with the feeling of longing, decides that he must face his problems and finally become the person he want's to be. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo agree to go on a road trip where they would look for the mysterious "Half 'n Half" after Tubbo reveals that Tommy had told him of how Wilbur had their father's book. Whilst on the road, they find a gas station, where they found out that their father had been by in hopes to find a local creature, called Splits. They figure that Splits was who they were looking for and sleep in the car for the night. Tommy wakes up from a nightmare and discusses some of it with Wilbur who was experiencing some insomnia. The three set out the next day in the forest, they find a small lake and take a break there. After a few hours, they continue to search until Wilbur finally sees the familiar purple particles, the signature of a certain half n' half. Ranboo enters the fray, confused and forgetful. He recalls the family emotionally but refuses to share the contents of his memory book without him reading it. The scene changes as Ranboo is lost in a forest, until he finds a boy, Tubbo, and is invited to stay at his home, L'Manburg. The two agree that Ranboo would become part of the family and Ranboo is delighted. Chapter ends with a certain dead person floating about the void. 
> 
> Section Break Letters: My thought process for the section breaks are simple, they are letters from the past, however names are blurred due to the passing of time which hinders who is writing. A person, unknown, is making notes of the letters including annotations, theories, and short explanations. It is up to the reader to decide who could be writing the entries and who is taking notes.


	5. So End It All Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, religion mention, drugs, and thoughts of suicide. no romantic relationships.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**My symphony, my nation, my L’_a_____, how you have fallen from grace. My family, my trust, where did it go? Did you need to stab me in the back? Was it an accident? Were you being forced? Was there something I could’ve done? I would give anything to return to the beginning, to fix it. It wouldn’t be possible… I know. I don’t think I can let you become more corrupt. I can’t let you hurt people. Why, why, why must you have turned out this way? I loved you and cared for you… you were supposed to be a safe place, a haven, away from the war. You’ve brought nothing but blood to my family; nothing but pain.**

**I hate to say it, but that bastard was right. He’s always been right, hasn’t he? I should’ve listened, I should’ve done something different, then maybe you’d be everything I hope you’d be. It’s my fault, it’s my mistakes that led to your fall.**

**No, no, no, it couldn’t be my fault, I loved you, I tended to your flames. I sowed the seeds of peace carefully, so why have you died?**

**I miss you.**

**Your name shouldn’t be dragged through hell just to satisfy those pricks. I’ll do what it takes in order to preserve everything I have ever loved about you.**

**Hell, if I care that I am to be the bad guy or the villain.**

**You are my symphony and I conduct you, yet somehow, I failed in creating a tune of jovial laughs and ended up creating a storm. My beautiful, beautiful symphony…**

**Forever unfinished.**

**Know my name, I won’t be forgotten.**

**-Wilbur Soot. President of L’Manburg.**

-0-

“My story started when another was closing… it was a book that everyone wanted to forget. It wasn’t brought up a lot, but when it was… it wasn’t good…”

-0-

Ranboo plucked nervously at his suit, towering over everyone else. People hadn’t been quick to encourage a sort of assimilation for the taller creature, some lobbed obvious stares. Tubbo had stated that everyone was on the tip of their toes at the moment… because of something that happened before Ranboo had stumbled upon the nation.

Tubbo had introduced Ranboo to some of the people he held dear to his heart. He mentioned Niki and Fundy, who were one of the kindest people besides Tubbo to interact with. Fundy was a hybrid like Ranboo whilst Niki was human. Both had been quick to welcome Ranboo with open arms.

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo muttered under his breath as the man called “Quackity” or “Alex” passed by. Quackity was a force to be reckoned with, his demeanor was sunken as was his eyes. He looked to have gotten in a fist fight with a bear, or maybe with himself. Tubbo had warned Ranboo that Quackity was dealing with trauma with a past friend of his that had passed away unfortunately. Something about co-dependency.

Quackity tiredly smiles back at Ranboo, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Then on, Ranboo made sure to check on the man to ensure that he smiled as much as he could.

This place, L’Manburg it was called, was evidently the source of war amongst the community. Tubbo clarified and said that L’Manburg was a sanctuary.

_Was it?_

Then came the force of nature himself, Tommy.

Tommy was loud, brash, humorful, and most of all: reckless. There was an aura of chaos (compared to others of course) that surrounded him as he sauntered around, however Ranboo couldn’t find him to be a threat; after all Tommy was 16.

“So… your name is Ranboo?” Tommy squints up at Ranboo, Ranboo nods, “It sounds like Ranboob and I think that’s funny. You ever been called Ranboob, Ranboob?”

“Nope, you’re the first to call me that,” Ranboo titters as Tommy let’s out an obnoxious laugh. “But it’s okay if you want to call me that, I guess.”

Tommy tilts his head to the side, curious. “Ranboo. I say this with the sincerest intentions. You have no backbone.”

A breath escapes, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean that you let people push you around too much and it makes me pissed off. Get that tattooed across your forehead, eh?” Tommy pushes Ranboo with his shoulder as the two walked around.

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo apologizes. Tommy rolls as his eyes, walking ahead. He walked as if the world would bend to his will, a trait that Ranboo could never have.

“So, what, you just apologize and shit?” Tommy flips around, walking backward.

Ranboo looks to the side, scratching the back of his head, ‘Something like that yeah…”

Tommy lets out a huff, “You’re a prick and I don’t like you, okay? You’re going to be a loose cannon and all around here. If you just bend over for any asshole than what’s to say you can stick up for yourself need be? It’s fucking stupid, you hear me?”

Something told Ranboo that Tommy was upset, but not at Ranboo, more at the world.

“I’ll work on it.” Ranboo promises, attempting to smile. Tommy nods to himself, turning back around to face forward.

“So, what’s that book you always got on you? Is it your diary or some shit?”

“Oh, it’s my memory book. I have trouble with remembering things, so I write everything down.” Ranboo explains, gripping the leather bound journal close.

“We had a war and we won, okay? Put that down in your book. And there was a lot of fighting, everyone was there. But there was this one person who didn’t do shit. Instead, he built a small little mushroom house while my home was being destroyed.” Tommy explains, hiking up a small hill.

“You’ll hear him around town, okay? His name is George, he’s kind of a lacky for that green bastard Dream. He’s stupid.” Tommy picks up a rock and throws it at one of the small windows. Ranboo falters in his steps.

“So… what are we doing?” Ranboo shifts his gaze to the carved out home, decorated with greenery and flowers. It was a nice home for all intents and purposes.

“We’re burning this bitch to the ground,” Tommy mumbled, holding a lighter. “I don’t expect you to help me, but this is what I’m doing. This is for my home that I can’t fucking return to.”

Humor had been drained from Tommy’s tone as he lit up parts of the small home. Fire was spreading as Tommy carved out some signs with vulgar pleasantries. Smoke billowed from out of the opened windows into the clear sky, ash crumbling.

Tommy looks back at the paled Ranboo. “If anyone asks, I did this, not you. I just dragged you along, okay? Write it down if you need to, prick.”

Ranboo flickers his attention to Tommy, “But why? I didn’t do anything, so I basically helped you. I’m sort of an accomplice here…”

“Don’t take credit for my shit. This has my name on it, so good. I did this, me, Tommy, the biggest man around.” Tommy throws rocks against the burning home. The air was stiff, and it felt suffocating. Ranboo could’ve convinced him to let Ranboo take the fall need be, but Tommy’s demeanor told him to not speak.

“History has it’s eyes on me is bullshit,” Tommy mutters under his breath, wiping away soot on his face. “Never ever say that to me again, you son of a bitch.” He wasn’t talking to Ranboo, clearly, but his venom was acidic.

It was at this moment that Ranboo truly felt out of place in the makeshift family.

The next time tense moments were shared was when Tommy was facing the inside of a jail cell, looking at the disappointed faces of his family. Ranboo could do nothing as Tommy pleaded his case, so much as stating there was no one to help him.

Ranboo was petrified, staring at the fire within Tommy’s eyes. It was as if a story had been unfolding slowly like a scroll. Words were exchanged hotly.

“Tommy can’t keep doing this! He hasn’t learned anything, he’s a threat to everyone!” The green “bastard” or Dream yelled across the courtroom, pounding his fist against the wooden table. Tubbo, stood opposite across the room, sighed.

“He can compensate with community work. I apologize for his actions on behalf of L’Manburg. I kindly ask that we come to a peaceful agreement.” Tubbo gritted between his iron smile. Stress was taking a toll on the teen.

“I don’t think he will,” Dream spits, “He doesn’t listen to me or any authority. I hardly think he respects you as a president Tubbo.”

Tommy shouts from his cell, “I fucking disagree, bitch! I respect Tubbo more than anyone else in this god damn room, you green bastard!” Tubbo shoots a glare at the imprisoned teen, a small snarl.

“Tommy, shut up. We’re negotiating for your sake.” Tart dripped from Tubbo’s words, something Ranboo was yet to ever experience from the kind boy.

“I never asked you to!” Tommy bites back. “I can fight my own fights, I don’t need to be babied anymore, I’m a goddamn person.”

“If you don’t want to be babied, then stop acting like a child.”

A dam breaks, “You’re just like Wilbur, he always told me that. What gives you the right- “?

“Wilbur gone!” Tubbo shouts, the courtroom goes silent, “He’s gone, Tommy. He’s dead, he’s never coming back. We have to move on otherwise we’ll never get to tell our own stories.”

Tommy’s eyes shimmer, but he bites back tears, “I’d be happy to tell his story before mine, because he would never think about _exiling_ me for some stupid house unlike someone I know!”

“I don’t want to exile you Tommy; I’m doing everything I can to not exile you. I just need you to listen to me. I’m the president, so I have to act like one, just like you should act like the vice.”

Tubbo bites his tongue as if he were to say something he’d regret. Tommy wished he just said it to his face instead of holding back.

Ranboo felt the air smother him as Tommy continued to cover for him, not even sparing a glance to the terrified creature. Was this his fault? Was it his fault that Tommy and Tubbo were falling apart at the seams? He didn’t stop Tommy, he didn’t tell Tubbo, he didn’t take the fall too.

It would be his fault. God, it was his fault wasn’t it? Everything was his fault and he’s only been around for a couple days… he’s a threat to everyone and himself.

Ranboo didn’t understand history, he couldn’t sympathize with anyone. He was just… there. Words could’ve been a landmine if someone could convince him enough.

It was start with this guy, Wilbur wouldn’t it? His name was screamed, and the mere mention of it made Tubbo erupt. Tubbo, the teen that smiles so care freely, being the one to shout at Tommy.

Ranboo began to scour the libraries, stumbling upon only a few documents about L’Manburg. About how they emancipated. About the war and betrayal. About how the war was fought.

About how Wilbur planted his foot in the ground with a torn flag, with Tommy and others behind his back.

A small era of peace, until an election was held. Documents were burned, only a few chicken scratches left on tattered papers.

The name Schlatt was underlined multiple times.

Of course, Ranboo could never understand the full scope of what history had done to scar everyone, but the thought that after winning a war only to be exiled again was horrifying. What’s to say this cycle wouldn’t end? War and exiling and more war? What was the point of anything?

Does Ranboo even have the right to judge them when he’s only just arrived? Tubbo welcomed him with open arms, it would be incredibly disrespectful for Ranboo to just up and betray him. But then again, is Ranboo betraying Tubbo by any means?

It was all too complicated, but it was only the start.

-0-

A week passed like a breeze, but the days were tense. It would only get more tense with the appearance of a ghost that nobody wanted to see around.

“Hello!” A wisp chirped, image blurring with the wind. Ranboo turns around to face an unfamiliar face. Curly brown hair with a red beanie, a yellow sweater and black jeans that warped in the shadows.

“Hello?”

“Could you tell me where I am? I think I’m lost.” The image flickers.

Ranboo looks around, “We’re at the community house in the Greater Dream SMP. Where’d you come from?”

The ghost blinks slowly before a light bulb went off, “Ah! The Greater Dream SMP, I know where I am! You don’t reckon you could show me to my home? I used to live here until recently…”

“Sure, um, I don’t know my way around here too much, but we can figure it out! If you don’t mind, what’s your name?” Ranboo stands up, bookmarking his book. The ghost hums and flips around.

“I’m not sure!” Seemed too optimistic for forgetting his own name, “I honestly just appeared out of nowhere! Isn’t that fun?”

Ranboo tilts his head to the side, hesitantly smiling, “Yeah, I guess that’s fun. My name is Ranboo, I just started to live here. Do you remember anything about this place?”

The ghost floats over to the direction of Tommy’s house, eagerly pointing. “I remember there’s a person who I really need to see,” he stops for a moment, thinking. “Yes, there’s someone I need to see very soon. Well, come on, we don’t have all day!”

Ranboo exhales softly, walking along the wooden path with a wisp trailing in front of him. The ghost was friendly and curious of everything he thought was new. It couldn’t have been long since… the ghost passed, but the buildings all seemed unfamiliar to him.

The ghost stops, curiously looking at a small fox that trampled along the path. “That’s a very cute fox, don’t you think?”

Ranboo nods his head, “Very cute, yes.” The ghost pauses for a few seconds before trudging on up the stairs. The small stone house that was Tommy’s stood partially intact. Some windows were missing and the flowers along the base were stepped on. Nevertheless, the ghost flows through the wall into Tommy’s house.

“I don’t think we should go in there- “Ranboo holds out his arm in protest, but the footsteps behind him stopped him in his tracks. Tommy stood arms crossed, glaring at the taller man.

“Who’s we?” Tommy huffs, opening the door. He stops in his tracks, hands dropping to his side.

Ranboo couldn’t have guessed the expression Tommy had, staring at the ghost phasing through the walls.

“What the fuck.” Tommy whispers under his breath, reaching out to the transparent image. The ghost stops and turns around, slowly blinking at the shocked former.

The light bulb is on, “Oh! You, yes, I was looking for you, Tommy! What a surprise to find you where I thought you’d be! You can thank Ranboo for leading me here, I’m so glad I found you!” The ghost cheerfully smiles at Ranboo.

Tommy’s body is rigid, hands shaking as he reached to touch the ghost with his fingertips. “You… you’re… how? You-you died; you’re supposed to be dead.”

The ghost hums, “Yes, I am very dead. I think I have unfinished business here, so that’s why I haven’t passed. Do you think you could help me?”

Tommy’s throat was clogged, like a sob or a yell was itching to erupt. “You’re supposed to be fucking dead! Gone! Now, you’re here? To what, haunt me? This is some cruel joke, right?”

He falters, “I don’t want to be here either, I just-I just wanted to see a familiar face. I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to- “

“Didn’t mean to? That’s fucking bullshit! Was this a part of your plan to hurt me more? You already took my home, wasn’t it enough? Wasn’t it fucking enough?” Tommy seethes, grabbing his sword and swinging through the ghost in a fit of unkept anger.

The ghost scattered with the wind and reformed just a foot away, holding his head in his hands. “I’m sorry-I don’t remember. Toms, please I’m sorry. I don’t-I want, please- “

“Don’t call me that, Wilbur, you don’t get the right to fucking call me that, okay?” Tommy is yelling at the top of his head, near screeching level. His eyes were glossy, tears piling at the edge of his tired eyes.

The ghost, or Wilbur, clutched his heart, tears falling from his dazed eyes. “I’m sorry Tommy, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to be Wilbur; I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to be a bad guy.”

“Too fucking _bad_. Must be tough for a fella who took the easy way out while the rest of us have to fucking deal with the aftermath of your bullshit! You’re always going to be the same guy who tore my family apart, you can’t fucking forget that.” Tommy throws his sword towards the ghost, stomping out of the house, middle finger held high to the sky.

Wilbur’s shoulder shook with sobs, slowly fading into a sad blue. “I only can remember-I can only remember the good things. I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Ranboo sucks in a deep breath and slowly approaches the somber ghost. “Hey, it’s okay, uh, Wilbur. He’ll come around sometime, he just needs to heal.”

“I don’t want to be Wilbur!” Wilbur cries, enveloping Ranboo in an airy hug. Ranboo awkwardly pats his back, hand fazing through.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to be Wilbur,” Ranboo thought for a moment, “You could go by… you could go by Ghostbur or something.” Wilbur looks up, tears evaporating as a grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Yeah! I could go by Ghostbur. I can remember that, yeah I can remember that.” Ghostbur pauses, eyes greying out ever-so-slightly. His ghostly wisp warped into a bluer hue.

“Ghostbur?”

“Oh, hello! I’m Ghostbur, who are you?” Ghostbur chirps, aura glowing with happiness. Ranboo blinks slowly, understanding as seconds pass.

“I’m Ranboo. Nice to meet you, Ghostbur,” Ranboo holds out his hand in greeting to the ghost who jovially shakes back. “We, uh… we were just having a conversation, y’know, um.”

Ghostbur hums in thought, “I would remember a conversation, don’t you think? I have things to do! I have to declare independence for my nation! And then we can be happy again.”

Ranboo’s smile dropped, “Oh… right. I thought you already did that?”

Ghostbur pauses, image flickering to a soldier’s uniform, “I have to draft the declaration, it’s due tomorrow. I would remember it; my memory is not that poor! I have to go, Ranboo. It was nice meeting you. Maybe we can be allies in the future!” Ghostbur manifests a sword at his side, pointing to gracefully at the exit door.

Something told Ranboo that Ghostbur wouldn’t be happy to see the sight of what used to be L’Manburg. The thought of seeing the ghost simply overwrite the negative memories, was sure to horrify the traumatized community; that much Ranboo could understood.

“Ghostbur I don’t think you should-uh I mean maybe you should take a step back.” Ranboo trails behind the eager ghost heading towards the exploded L’Manburg. The path was full of holes and broken in some places. Ranboo was put in charge of fixing the path and had made the path more walkable.

“What are you talking about? It’s my home, my L’Manburg!” Ghostbur peers over the wreckage and some of the buildings that had to be taken down due to sheer inability to serve a purpose. “My L’Manburg…?”

Ranboo swallows, “Yeah, uh. There was an accident.”

It was if the color of Ghostbur drained once more, this time his outfit changed to a large brown long coat before flickering back to his yellow sweater. “Did I do this?”

Hesitation. “Kind of, uh, Wilbur did.”

“Wilbur did this? I don’t like Wilbur if he did this, I think that’s quite mean.”

“Yeah, he was not a good guy,” Ranboo stands beside him, before sparing a pitiful glance to the wide-eyed ghost. He takes a moment, before materializing an empty journal. “Here, you can have this. I also have memory problems, so I write this down. Maybe it could help you?”

Ghostbur delicately grasps the journal, a fond smile tracing his greyish features. “For me?”

“For you. From one amnesiac to another.”

“Thank you, er, Booran.” Ghostbur slips on his words, silently panicking.

Ranboo exhales softly, understanding. “Ranboo, it’s Ranboo.”

Ghostbur flips through the carefully and meticulously made journal, admiration lacing his eyes, “Thank you Ranboo. I won’t forget you again!”

“It’s okay, I understand if you don’t.”

“What should I write in it?”

“Write what you remember, or anything else you think is important. For starters, I write down what I do in a day, you could write about what you see or something.”

“I think I want to write about L’Manburg.”

“I think that’s a good start.”

“Could I write about you?”

“You could, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay. You remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“Hmm… you remind me of my baby brother. I remember him, his name is Tommy, have you ever met him?”

“That’s… that’s nice of you, I have met Tommy before.”

“I hope he’s doing well…” Ghostbur smiles, reminiscing in the past. As the sun peaks through the clouds, Ghostbur vanishes in a matter of a few seconds, swept away in the breeze.

Ranboo is left by himself, looking over the construction of New L’Manburg. A storm was brewing and Ranboo didn’t have an umbrella.

-0-

The obsidian walls were tall, and Ranboo was at the bottom looking up at a conversation he couldn’t hear. It was supposed to be the big verdict, whether or not Tommy was to be exiled and there was nothing Ranboo could do about it. The clouds were dark and sprinkling.

It could’ve been hours since they had been conversing with the final result, but alas, it was only half an hour. It all ended when Tommy began to shout as he was being beckoned off the obsidian walls, begging for Tubbo to stop this. Fundy and Quackity looked to be horrified, staring at Tommy as he was dragged by Dream.

Dream threw Tommy to the ground when they got to the ground, “Go on, he doesn’t want you here anymore.”

Tommy hissed through his clenched teeth, “You’re a fucking dickhead, you son of a bitch- “Dream kicked him in the stomach, Tommy hacks.

“I haven’t done anything, it’d be best if you were to shut your mouth, _child_.” Dream grabs Tommy by the shirt and drags him to the shore of the ocean. Tommy screams and punches Dream in protest before Dream summons his axe to his side and holds it to his chest.

“I said, shut the fuck up.” Dream tilts his head, mask glinting with the increasing rain. Tommy shifts onto the boat, not looking back from L’Manburg, but he felt the nervous stare of Ranboo.

Ranboo had walked behind them slowly, trailing the conversation. His cover was fine, until a familiar ghost appeared.

“Hello Ranboo! How are you?” Ghostbur squeaks happily, waving his hand. Tommy sucks in a breath as he watches Ghostbur approach the boat. “Oh, hi Tommy and Dream? Where are you going? Is it a vacation, I’d quite like to come along!”

“It’s not a fucking vacation _, Ghostbur_.” Tommy spits to the ghost of his older brother, “Or did you already forget what an exile is, huh?”

However many profanities it would take Ghostbur to be deterred, Tommy was never going to reach it. Ghostbur fashioned his own boat and waved to Ranboo.

“Goodbye Ranboo! I’m on vacation!”

“It’s not a fucking vacation– “

“We’re on tour then, isn’t that right? Lads on tour!” Ghostbur cheers, rowing along Dream. Their voices become distant as Ranboo watches a piece of everyone float away. “Lads on tour! That’s fun!”

“Goodbye Ghostbur!” Ranboo calls out suddenly, catching the attention of the friendly ghost. The latter waves back excitedly before returning to his voyage.

Maybe there was something still good for Tommy awaiting his destination, or maybe that’s just false hope for his safety.

The rain poured.

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**Hello. My name is Ghostbur. I am a ghost. I am the ghost of Wilbur Soot.**

**It’s peculiar, how I’ve come along, not remembering anything except for happy memories that seem to slip away.**

**I hear of my, or his, villainy towards L’Manburg and I don’t quite think I can call myself Wilbur if I don’t hold anything against L’Manburg. It’s my home, it’s the place away from the blood. I don’t understand many things, like how I could ever think about hurting my family.**

**I remember only the happy things, the things that make me smile.**

**I remember Tommy. He’s the child.**

**I remember Tubbo. He’s the child’s best friend.**

**I remember Niki, she loves to bake bread. (Remember the smell of bread?)**

**I remember Technoblade, he loves to farm and fight.**

**I remember Phil, my father. He’s my father, Phil is. Father Phil, Dadza.**

**I remember the diamond sword. I remember it through, my stomach. I remember smiling. I remember, I remember, I remember.**

**I remember dying.**

**Why is that happy? Why does that bring me joy and laughter when I recall my death? I would certainly be sad if I were dying, so why can I remember it? Am I insane, am I broken? Is there something wrong with me?**

**I fear that I knew something those moments of death, something I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember? I want to remember so bad… Can I even consider myself disconnected to Wilbur when his life ties to mine?**

**Am I just a figment? I can’t be sad; I can’t feel loss. I’m not depressed about dying or even feel guilt.**

**I want to go. I want to go home.**

**\- Ghostbur**

-0-

The long grassed plains stretch on forever, a big tree stood tall on a small hill, providing small shady sanctuary for the waves of heat that pounded down.

Wilbur blinks to consciousness, laid facing up at the clear sky. He covers his eyes with his arm, pulling himself up in a sitting position. Narrowing his eyes, Wilbur surveys the area with keen eyes.

He was alone, not a person in sight.

With uneasy balance, Wilbur stands, tall dry grass brushing against his skin. He recoils from the tendril’s touch. Exhale.

“Is this a dream?” Wilbur mutters under his breath, turning around to see if there was anything but grass. “It’s a pretty shitty one.”

Inhale. Stepping. Rocks. Bees. Cicadas. Sunlight. Dirt.

Headache.

Exhale. “The fuck am I supposed to do? Wait until I wake up? This is stupid.” Wilbur picks up a rock and throws it across the grass. His lazy eyes wander along the horizon, peering at a dark figure walking towards him.

A small breath of relief. His brain had manifested someone to pass time until he wakes up.

“Hello?” Wilbur hollers, taking steps toward the lonely figure. There was no affirmation that he was heard. Inhale. “Hello?!”

He continues to walk, a little skip in his step. Wilbur takes off his hat, it was too hot.

Who-who was that? Is that Tommy? Of all the people to be kept company, his mind chose Tommy.

“Tommy!” Wilbur continues to yell until Tommy turns around. The latter sends an aspirated sigh in the former’s direction.

‘Hey Wilbur…” Tommy grumbles, arms crossed. He wasn’t good company, why would his brain choose him?

“Don’t have to be rude about it, after all I could manifest you to be nice…” Wilbur shoots a glare whilst Tommy creases his brows in confusion.

“The fuck you mean manifest. You’re in my dream dickhead,” Tommy moves to hit Wilbur’s shoulders, surprised when he hits solid. “Or maybe not.”

Wilbur shoos Tommy’s hand off of him. “We’re both dreaming then, that makes sense.”

“Well, I don’t want to be in your shitty dream, you ever think of that? I could be texting so many women right now and you pulled me into a fucking nightmare, what the hell man?” Tommy rambles, a growl in his throat. He pouts.

“Shush child,” Wilbur smiles fondly, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “It can be your dream.”

Exhale.

“My dreams aren’t this shit, so it’s obviously yours, honestly I could never have this shit of a dream. I hold myself to a high standard of sleep, I’ll have you know.” Tommy explains.

Wilbur could do nothing but smile and nod. “So, it’s my dream?”

Tommy huffs, “If it gets better, it’s totally mine.”

“Oh of course. Wouldn’t even dare think of it.” Wilbur laughs sarcastically.

“And if it’s my dream?” A voice asks behind the two brothers. They turn around in an instant to face the familiar figure of Technoblade. He doesn’t look impressed, hand on hip, hair draped behind him in a low ponytail.

Tommy groans loudly, dragging his hand across his face. “Makes an even shittier dream.”

Tommy is punched. He is on the floor. Technoblade blows on his knuckles, a trace of a smirk along his features.

“Oi! What the hell are you on about, dickhead? I could take you, right here right now! Hear me?” The teen sneers up at the unimpressed older man, who yawned.

“Not worth my time,” Technoblade flatly says, “Well, if what I’m thinking is correct, we have a lot of time.”

Wilbur pulls Tommy to his feet, “And what are you thinking?”

Techno hums, inspecting his nails, “I think we are in a connected dream space. And time is elusive and whatnot.”

“So…” Wilbur drawls, “You’re saying we could live a full life in a dream?” Technoblade nods, shrugging his shoulders, “So is that why they call it the dream life, when something really good happens? I don’t think I can stand a life with Tommy.”

Tommy sputters in response, “You should be thankful to be in my presence! I’m the big man, I’m the biggest of all of you dickheads. What I would give to have a knife right no- “

“Tommy, shut up.” Techno clamps his hand over Tommy’s mouth, pulling everyone down lower into the grass. Technoblade stares up at the sky, watching as the sky changes and the stars fall.

A star nearly fell on them, Technoblade tackled his brothers to the ground the star crashes into his back. Much to everyone’s surprise, the star exploded into a glittering light, temporarily blinding them all.

When Wilbur opened his eyes again, his head felt a ton heavier. In a sudden panic, Wilbur shoots up and searches for his brothers. Instead, he was alone in a ravine of sorts. It was cold and dripping water droplets from the ceiling. Lanterns hung lowly and the smell of baked potatoes wafted through the air.

“Tommy? Technoblade?” Wilbur calls, water landing on his shoulder. His voice echoes through the empty cage.

His breath hitches, there’s someone behind him.

“It’s funny… you can never seem to run away from me, no matter how hard you try.” Wilbur’s eyes widen, hands shaking. He stared at himself, but not himself. It was Wilbur, but everything screamed danger.

“Who- “Wilbur starts.

Other Wilbur cracks his knuckled methodically. This Other Wilbur had seen better days, worn and tired eyes, ripped and rigid clothes, even his hair was long and unkept. “You know who I am. I’m you.”

“I’m not-you’re not me. Where are my brothers? Where’s Tommy and Techno?” Wilbur spits, hand tensing with a punch in thought. Other Wilbur laughs, a maniacal laugh, clutching his stomach.

“It doesn’t matter-they don’t matter! They betrayed me; they’re using me!” Other Wilbur grips his hand over his eye, stopping himself from tearing up.

Wilbur tentatively reaches his hand out to Other Wilbur, “They wouldn’t do that, I don’t know what you’re talking about but this Tommy and Techno right? The same guys who we grew up with?”

Other Wilbur lets out a large breath, “It doesn’t matter anymore, everyone hates me. There’s only one way, there’s only one way I can be free.”

Wilbur carefully grasps Other Wilbur’s hand and unfolds them into his own. “You have to tell me; I don’t understand what this is about. I don’t even know why I’m here. But… but I know there’s not only one way for everything. There’s always another option.”

Other Wilbur softly looks up to Wilbur, who’s smiling gently. “I have to blow everything up. It has to go; it has to disappear forever.”

“What has to go?”

“Home. I have to destroy it,” Other Wilbur’s eyes spazzed, tears leaking at the sides, “I have it rigged, it can be gone in a matter of seconds. All it takes is the press of a button…”

Wilbur hesitates, “And… and do you want it gone? Is that what you want?”

Other Wilbur takes a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in his throat, “There’s nothing there for me anymore. I have nothing. I have no family, I have no friends, I have no one to trust but myself.”

“Okay,” Wilbur cautiously continues, “And I’m you. So, trust me on this. We need home, we need someone to care for us, someone to love us… and that can happen. It can happen, okay? Destroying it will never make things better. You’ll regret it, you’ll hate yourself.”

“I despise myself as is. I regret everything I ever could. Tommy hates me, I know he does. Technoblade is only using me and Phil… Phil doesn’t care. He never has.” Other Wilbur takes a shuddering breath, falling to his knees.

Wilbur’s head pulses, but he continues to speak. “And what do you get out of everything? What do you get out of hurting everyone?”

“I get peace.”

“You get _war_.”

“All I know is war. I can do nothing but _cause_ war.”

“We know love,” Wilbur kneels in front of Other Wilbur, “We know what it means to protect. We know that there’s always something for us if we just continue on.”

“You’re too peaceful, peace has never worked.”

“That’s what separates us, I guess. But you’re a part of me, and I’m a part of you.”

“I’m hate and you’re love? Is that what this is? Are you my voice of reason? You don’t understand anything, you’re clueless.” A tear sheds down Other Wilbur’s cheeks.

Wilbur exhales softly. “You’re right on one thing, I don’t understand. But I still feel hatred, I still hold grudges; I understand.”

“You do?”

“Sure, I do, I have a grudge against Phil for leaving us to die. I have a grudge against my old math’s teacher who failed me one year. I swear I had full marks until finals, she really just hates me. Maybe if I hadn’t screamed that one time…” Wilbur laughs a bit at the end, thinking back to his own childhood.

Other Wilbur looks up at Wilbur with confusion. “I don’t understand. I’ve never had a math’s teacher like that. I was taught by a villager.”

Pulse.

“A what?”

Other Wilbur begins to laugh, body shaking. “I’m so alone I made up another me! That’s not good, that’s not good at all,” He releases a long, pained breath. “The lowest point of my life and I start hallucinating… just great.”

Wilbur pulls himself to his feet, “I don’t know what you mean, but… but please don’t destroy our family.”

Other Wilbur grins from ear to ear, “I can’t believe I nearly convinced myself out of what I truly want. I’ve worked so hard and I nearly backed out on myself!”

“Don’t do this,” Wilbur mutters, grabbing Other Wilbur’s wrist. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Other Wilbur pulls Wilbur down, grabbing a sword from the side. “I have to. I can’t back down; this is my will; this is all I’ve ever worked for!”

“If we were ever the same person,” Wilbur spits, “I know what we worked for. We worked for home not our own selfish desires. I’ll personally _haunt_ you if you intentionally hurt Tommy or anyone else.”

Other Wilbur rolls his crazed eyes, “I won’t live long enough for you to get the chance.”

A sword impales Wilbur, and everything coming to a sudden end.

“No one understands, no one understands me.”

-0-

Wind whistles, screaming at the shivering Techno. Snow fluttered along like pellets of sharp burning pain, whilst the moon shone a red hue that consumed everything.

“What the hell.” Technoblade mutters under his breath, rubbing his sore shoulder. His attention flickers to the sound of crunching snow and he ducks under the nearest bush.

There’s loud hot panting, like someone had been running for some time. Techno carefully takes steps closer to the source, eyes open and aware. He sees a red cape dragging in the snow, a figure clutching his heart, bristled mask coming undone in the snow.

Blood dripped methodically.

Without thinking, Technoblade rushes to the figure’s side, in hopes that he could do something for the bloodied man. Upon meeting the man, Technoblade suddenly wasn’t even sure what to say.

“Uh-um, are you okay?” Technoblade stumbles over his words, head pounding at the sight of blood.

The figure looks up, eyes feral as he shoves Technoblade to the wet ground. The mask is clipped back on, he grabs a weapon and presses it to Techno’s chest, a growl in his throat. “Who the hell are you?”

Technoblade’s eyes wander up to the figure’s eyes, familiarity flickering in between the fire and exhaustion. “You-who the hell are you?” Techno grabs the crossbow with his hand and kicks the stranger to the side.

“Who sent you?” The stranger heaves, eyes narrowing.

“Who’s after you?’ Technoblade side eyes the area. The only thing that moved was the rustle of bushes, a snow rabbit hopping along. An arrow whizzes by, the rabbit is pinned the ground, feet twitching.

Another figure, larger and uncaring, picks up the rabbit by the arrow as he rips it out. His robes barely touched the snow and weren’t as intricate as the stranger who attacked him.

“Techno, how long are you going to be?” The stranger asks, not sparing a glance at the two. “I’d hate to rush you mate, but I’m making dinner in a few.”

Technoblade’s eyes widen, chest heaving short breaths. Panic rose in his throat, and his stomach boiled. “What the hell?”

The stranger glances from Techno to the other stranger. “I won’t be long. I have to deal with something.”

The other hums, licking his fingers to rid of the blood. “Do it quick, I won’t warm your food.”

“I know. Can you see him?”

The former looks down, eyes scattered over Technoblade as if he didn’t see him. “I don’t.” Techno burns holes into the stranger’s eyes, recognition flaming like fire. It was his father, but a much more worn one at that. Long blonde hair draping down, a small braid intertwined, and tired grey eyes.

“Okay,” The strangers pull himself up from the ground, “I’ll deal with it.”

“Whatever you say.” Phil, a small trace of kindness lacing his words. However, he steels, and walks off in the snowstorm.

The two are left to themselves, exchanging harsh glares.

“You’re just a hallucination, right?” The stranger speaks in a lower tone than before. “You’re one fucked up one then, eh?”

Technoblade shudders, “You’re right on one thing, I’m fucked up, but I’m as real as real gets.”

“This divine intervention is shit if that’s what you can call it. Haven’t had a voice tell me he’s screwed up like that. Explain your shit.” The stranger unclips his mask once more, the bristle pig face lowered.

“Who are you?” Technoblade takes a step back, long pink billowing out from under the stranger’s façade. “Why do you have my face?”

“ _You_ have mine. _You’re_ a voice in my head or something, a figment of my imagination. And you won’t go away until you’ve had your piece of me, yeah? It’s why _you_ attacked me?”

Technoblade was staring at… well Technoblade.

“So… what? You gonna spill your life story to me in hope I disappear, because if that works then I’m fine being your little therapist. What I’m not understanding is why that bastard is all fatherly to you.”

Other Technoblade blinks slowly, gears shifting in his head. “He’s my father… nerd.”

Technoblade narrows his eyes, “Father my ass, he’s never been my father.”

“I thought you were supposed to be _my_ therapist.”

“Well, we have the same face, same problems yeah?” Technoblade huffs out a hot breath, cloud of heat puffing in the air. “So, what’s your deal, huh? I want to go home.”

Other Technoblade was silent for a moment, “I thought you would know.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I knew, that’s stupid and wastes time.”

“Just came back from my own execution.” Other Techno mutters, he stiffens.

Technoblade nods along, but not much. He didn’t understand anything, but the thought of being executed was sure to shake even him. “It failed, clearly, so it wasn’t that much of an execution then huh?”

“It hurt. I nearly died, and… and I wish I did.” The lasty part was barely audible, but Techno still sympathizes with his counterpart. Various levels, very complicated.

“Did you or did the voices.”

Silence.

“You’re not a very good therapist.” Other Technoblade notes.

“Never said I was a good therapist. I’m just as emotionally constipated as you are.” Technoblade, despite it being true, wished it weren’t. Emotions didn’t come easy, he never understood tone and lot of the time he said things that were too blunt.

Other Technoblade grunts in response. “I don’t understand why I’m telling you all this.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence.

“Uh… I’m not the best with life advice or anything so take it with a grain of salt; ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’”

“Are you telling me to soul search? I’m not that spiritual.” Other Technoblade exhales.

Technoblade smiles to himself. “I’m not telling you to do anything, I’m telling you to move on if you’re actually all that. I kind of know who you are, besides having my face.”

“You’re going to try to kill me, is that it?” Other Technoblade glances to Technoblade, but only briefly. Technoblade sighs, releasing a long dramatic breath.

“You know something that I need to know; something that I’m willing to trade for.”

“So, you want me to bargain with the devil? Sell my soul? Not interested.”

“All I’m asking for is a favor, or a bet really. I’ll tell you one thing and if it happens, I win. Feel free to decline.”

Fire flickers. “What will you get if you win?”

Technoblade gathers his long hair to the side, combing through it with delicate fingers. “Just the satisfaction.”

“And if I lose?”

“You leave behind one sign, something that says that all of this wasn’t some dream. Just for me.”

“How will I know when to do it?”

“When there’s nothing left.”

-0-

It was never pleasant waking up as of late, it could be that sleep would become a nuisance the more it dragged on. Some could say sleep was sanctuary, but for Wilbur, it’s been hell.

Eyes glance to the side, analyzing the area he was in. A hospital of course, what other place would smell to clean and have posters saying, “You’ll be out in no time!” or a patient sheet with information on emergency numbers, daily medicines, etc. Hand sanitizer wafted in Wilbur’s eyes, burning them.

He squints. _Not the place I was expecting to wake up from, but it’ll do…_

_Don’t settle for this place, you deserve better._

_When’d you get narcissistic?_

_When you proved yourself._

_Does that mean you’ll leave me alone?_

_No._

_Worth a try._

A few long minutes later, the all knowing Technoblade saunters in the room, as fancy clothed as ever.

“Hey,” Wilbur greets from his bed. He scratches the arm with the IV drip, slightly irritating it. “What’s up?”

Technoblade, not impressed, “Oh nothing really, just got a call my brothers were in the hospital for some reason. Yeah, I think you can imagine ‘what’s up’?”

“Could you spare some sympathy, I don’t even know what happened.” Wilbur grunts.

“That’s even worse. Listen, I’m not up to taking care of an amnesiac, I’ve got enough on my plate. Either you piece it together yourself or you’re getting another head injury.”

“You’re a horrible man, you know that Techno? Real shit guy, threatening a hospital patient. This’ll not look good in court.” Wilbur shuts his eyes before peeking at Techno with one.

“So, what, you’re going to sit here until a pretty nurse comes along and sweeps you off your feet?”

“You reckon that’d be easier? Sure, would be less stressful…”

Technoblade shifts on his feet, before speaking. “Did you forget when I say that my brothers were in the hospital or were you too busy screwing a nurse?”

Wilbur sits up in the bed, pulling his stiff leg to the side of the bed. “As much as I’d like to be, I can’t feel my legs and I’m emotionally exhausted. You never hear me say that do you?”

Techno hums, “You sprained your ankle pretty bad and you hit your head. You’ll be bed ridden for a few days.”

“Don’t be such a prick. Tell me how Tommy and Tubbo are, be a little useful.”

Technoblade rolls his eyes to the side. If Techno noticed the increase of attitude Wilbur had, he didn’t say anything about it. “Tubbo is okay, he’s just tired. Tommy hasn’t woken up yet.”

Wilbur swallows the lump in his throat. “He’s just taking his time, right? There’s nothing seriously wrong?”

Techno hesitates on his words, “If there was something wrong, we don’t know,” he stops for a moment, “But, yeah, he’s taking his time waking up.”

“That’s good.”

Silence.

“Are you going to explain why you were in the middle of a forest?” Technoblade pulls out the chair in the corner closer to Wilbur’s bedside.

“Found what we were looking for. Half n’ Half? It’s this kid named Ranboo, he’s not human. Knows a lot.” Wilbur tugs on the hospital gown.

Techno pauses, “Does he know about Dad?”

_He never calls Phil dad._

“If he does, he hasn’t talked.”

Technoblade glares to the side, slightly aggravated, “Did he at least say something useful?”

Wilbur’s head pulses, “My head hurts, but I remember something about him remembering Tubbo from another life or something. I’m not sure.”

Technoblade airily smiles, leaning back in his chair, “Another life, yeah?”

Wilbur narrows his eyes, “Yes, he said something like ‘haven’t seen a Tubbo in a while’ whatever that means. Tommy was pissed.” He pulls his uninjured foot up and unrolls his socks.

“And what do you think of it?”

“I think that even with all of the bullshit we’ve been dealing with, this Ranboo fella knows things that we don’t know; what you don’t know believe it or not,” Techno hums in response, “and I think we’ve gotten ourselves into something too big for us to handle-for Tommy or Tubbo to handle.”

“So, you think we should dump them with Karl?”

“No. I think Tubbo is going to be the key to Ranboo and god knows how clingy Tommy is, we couldn’t shake Tommy off of Tubbo even if we tried.” Wilbur chuckles to himself.

“I see.”

“What are _your_ thoughts on this? This isn’t the time to be holding things back, you have to lay it on me sooner or later.” Technoblade looked at Wil with eyes deep in thought.

He sits up, “I think there’s a closer chance to find Phil more than ever, at the expense of ourselves. Who says we’ll be in one piece when we see him?”

_He called you a liability! Can’t let him get away with this, come on._

_Can you not._

_I do what’s best for you._

_If it’s best to have an annoying voice, then you’re doing great._

“So, what, you want to stop searching? You know we can’t do that, not at this point.”

“Not at all. I think it may be worth it to see Phil one more time before I fold him in.” Technoblade sits up in his chair, pulling himself to his feet as he stood towering over Wilbur.

“He’s my worse nightmare, so I’m not going to miss my chance to pummel him six feet under even if it means I lose myself.”

-0-

**Technoblade D Gold**

**7/9/2015**

**The possibility of time travel exists only within a small margin of success and a large margin of hope. The phenomenon that is to possibly alter the past and change the future runs along a very thin line of events. If one where to snap the threads of time, it would be plausible that the fated “Doomsday”, foretold among many religions in different forms, would pass amongst humanity.**

**Time travel has been extensively research and theorized, so why hasn’t there been a breakthrough? With incredible self-indulgence upon this topic, I have concluded two different points on why time travel hasn’t been so much as cracked.**

**Point One: Time travel is not possible. There is no way to shift the passage of time when time is a constant ever going process. The idea that is perpetuated by literature and media that time travel is the matter of reversing the flow of fate is incorrect.**

**Point Two: Time travel is possible. There has been an extensive amount of research that has gone into it, that how could there possibly not be progress within that topic? However, I must admit, if the absolute idea that time travel is capable, there would be a mass amount of civil unrest.**

**Personally, Point One is more possible than Point Two when there are many unknown variables. When the equation has revealed the solution to one of the two unknown values, the equation can be solved with simple algebra. I believe that one of the variables is will.**

**Will alone will not push one to the past, there is some science behind it or even some religion if you squint. With the idea that religion can possibly be the other unknown value is correct and incorrect at the same time. Religion is faith, it is hope, and it is an explanation. It serves as the judge, jury, and executioner. The idea of religion is what pushes humanity forward, however the idea that it has to be one religion over the others, is incorrect. In fact, the will to continue to move on with faith in yourself and whoever is in a higher power, is completely up to you. To expand upon this with further detail, religion is not the independent variable within this theory. You don’t have to be religious in order to live a full life.**

**The drive to continue the path of time, is said without saying. Sure, many wish they could change the past and devote their lives to the cause, but they do not realize what the possibilities are.**

**In this report, I am inferring that in order to back pedal on time, you must have the dedication, other worldly or not.**

**I believe with a whole heart, that dreams will be the answer.**

**I will answer the equation and I will perform the function. I will be a necessary evil in order to correct the issues of the past.**

-0-

“Daddy?” A small voice squeaks, gripping the edge of his small shirt with tiny fists. Kind eyes gently look down and scoop up the small child in one fell swoop.

“What it is buddy?” Phil tilts his head, making sure the child understands his curiosity.

“Are you mad at me?” Techno’s eyes water, as he innocently frowns. Phil shakes his head, using one finger to tickle his small belly.

Technoblade looks up, a smile tracing his small features. “I’m never mad at you, Tech.”

“But-but last night, you were yelling about me when you were sleepy…” Techno looks down, frowning once more. Phil exhales softly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I just had a nightmare, okay?” Phil’s soft, his eyes are a soft baby blue, however his eye bags had seen better days. Technoblade wouldn’t ever understand his father’s sleepless nights, but he does understand when Phil is angry which scared him.

“You have nightmares too?” Phil ruffles the child’s fluffy brown hair, while nodding with a small hum. “Why?”

“Well… I’m scared of losing you Tech, I don’t want anything to hurt you.”

“But, but you’ll always be there… you’ll protect me?” His voice was a hushed whisper, on the edge of a sob.

The older man nods, “I’ll always be there for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Technoblade nods to himself, his mouth forming a “o” shape. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

-0-

Technoblade stares into his reflection in the bathroom mirror, hands shaky as he touched his hair. He’d been growing it out throughout his teen years and now it’s become so long. Techno wanted long hair, sure, but without him doing anything to it, it was slowly turning a lighter color; a rosy color.

“What the hell.” Techno whispers, dragging his fingers like a comb through his hair.

_You’re a freak. There’s no way you could go out._

_He has to cut it!_

_No! Don’t make Techno cut his hair, it’s special!_

_The people won’t understand, what will they think?_

_Wilbur will accept it! Tubbo will like it, and Tommy’ll make some jokes._

_What if they think he’s a…?_

“I’m not a monster,” Technoblade mutters to himself, staring at a pair of scissors. “There has to be a good reason for this.”

_Cut it, it’s a nuisance anyways…_

_But… but Phil loved his long hair._

“Phil’s not here anymore, he doesn’t matter,” Technoblade grabs the pair of scissors and holds it to his silky hair. “He doesn’t matter anymore; he doesn’t control me.”

_Then what will you have left of him?_

“Pictures?”

_You broke them all. Burned them._

“I have… I have…” Technoblade lowers the scissors absentmindedly.

_Keep your hair, it’ll be okay. It’s not worth it to lose Phil._

“Phil’s already gone; he doesn’t care about me anymore.”

_But you still care about him._

The atmosphere drops, as coldness seeps into Techno’s bones. His reflection was judging him, ridiculing him, what was he supposed to do? The murmurs were becoming louder, suggestions of what he could do to let it out. He has to make someone pay for it, so who?

“I still care about you.” A familiar voice speaks as if he were behind Techno. Much to Techno’s neutrality, Phil wasn’t there. The wall was dripping blood, oh god where was the blood coming from?

It’s overwhelming, he’s trying to breath, but his throat is clogged. The blood, why is there blood, why is there so much blood? Is it his, is it his father’s? Who? Who? Who?

“Stop acting like you care about me! You’ve been nothing but nightmare!” Technoblade screams, “Get out of my head, get out of my head!”

“You miss me. You miss the feeling of being loved, yeah?”

“I hate you; I hate you, please-please get out of my head.” Techno’s eyes are like a waterfall of tears.

“You don’t really think that… after all I’m the only one who will ever understand you… I’m the only one who cares.”

“You’re not real, you’ve never been real,” Techno clenches his jaw tightly as he tries to conserve his breaths. “You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

Ghost arms wrap around Technoblade as if to hug. A cold whisper brushes against techno’s ear, “I’m everything you hate about yourself. Everything that haunts you in night, I’m the reason you’ll never ever learn to love again. Because you’re scared of becoming me; the person you hate the most.”

“That’s not true.” Techno whimpers, clasping his hands over his ears.

“Is it? You’ve been researching my papers, following my footsteps… you’re just a kid, close to graduating and you’re still stuck on me… it sounds like you haven’t aged a day.”

“I grew up the day you left us to die. It’s all your fault, you bastard.”

Techno’s face is gently caressed by the figment, “I guess you need someone to blame… what if I left because you were too much? What if I left because you were a nuisance to me, it’d be your fault that Tommy and Tubbo didn’t grow up with a dad… or Wilbur having to fill in my role?”

“No,” Techno sobs, holding his head in his hands, dropping to his knees., “No, you told me you’d always be there for me, you’d always protect me; you promised.”

“Everyone can promise something, it doesn’t mean that they’re obligated to follow through. People lie, Technoblade. I was a liar. You are naïve for thinking that.”

“I was a kid! We were children, we didn’t deserve it!” Technoblade curled into himself.

“You know what you are…”

“I’m not anything you weren’t.”

“And I’m everything you are. A monster. A freak. A liar. A bastard. You’ll never escape your past, Technoblade. Not even lives can evade me. I’m always here.”

Techno can’t breathe anymore; his head is full, and he can’t feel his body. A miserable, miserable man wailing on the floor with no one there to help. He’s always been by himself, isolated from everyone else.

_He’s a monster._

Technoblade is as confused as everyone else, he doesn’t understand what he did wrong or what he did to deserve a fate like this. He’s still a human, so why is suffering like livestock?

_He’s a freak._

Techno kept his long hair, even as it slowly changed into a light pink. Afterall, since he was like a ghost passing through people, who’d actually notice him? There was no one who looked him in the eyes or comforted him.

_He should just-_

_No._

_Yes._

_I don’t want to._

_Yes, you do._

_I don’t._

_You could._

_I can’t._

_You should._

_I won’t._

_It’s your fault._

_Stop, please._

_If you don’t, I’ll never leave._

_I can manage._

_Can you?_

_Yes, I can._

_You have to repent for your sins._

_I’m a kid, I haven’t done anything._

_You have to repent._

_I haven’t done anything._

_Repent._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Ranboo explains to Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur the first week that he stayed in L'Manburg, including the altercation of Tommy and George's house, Ghostbur's sudden appearance, as well as the unfortunate exiling of Tommy. In a dream scape, Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno are all gathered in what seems to be a shared dream. The stars begin to fall on them and Wilbur is transported to a ravine where he attempts to talk down a slightly more crazed version of himself. This Other Wilbur confesses that he wants to blow up his home, however Wilbur vows to haunt Other Wilbur if he does so. In another time, Technoblade is faced with the other bloody version of himself who has his father by his side. Technoblade talks with Other Technoblade, going as far as to place a "bet" on whether or not "there would be nothing left". Wilbur wakes up in the hospital to a head injury and a sprained ankle. Techno arrives, explaining that Tommy was still unconscious and converses on the happenings of recent events. A younger Technoblade is faced with the haunting appearance of a vision of his father. This spirit goes to call Technoblade a monster and degrade him, telling him that he's all Techno has ever wanted. Technoblade talks to a voice within his head, telling him to off himself. 
> 
> It is up to you as the reader to figure out who's writing the diary entries! Entries will not always be by the same person. If a an entry doesn't have notes, it means the person writing notes does not have the entry and does not the contents of it.


	6. It's A Pointless Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings : broken bones, graphic depiction of violence, curses, drugs, derealization, and thoughts of suicide.
> 
> I suggest putting this story in "Entire Work" instead of "Chapter by Chapter" and there are chapter summaries at the end notes! Hope it helps if you attention span is as bad as mine! This is the first proper time I've made a work instead of small oneshots so bare with me !!

[information link [character relations + timeline]](https://underthefallingsky.carrd.co/)

It could’ve been a month that passed like second, before Wilbur finally went insane. Tommy was still out like a light. Within that month was hell for his older brothers and best friend. The constant reminder that the jovial teen’s laughing was missing from daily conversations haunted everyone involved.

Wilbur really missed Tommy and there was nothing he could do about it.

Wilbur sits across the room in an uncomfortable chair, fiddling with his hands as he stared down the sleeping form of his younger brother. Lines connected to and from him, tangling and overlapping in a clean disarray. Wilbur was tempted to organize it out of spite. Linoleum floors and glassy windows agitated the older man, even to the squeak of a medicine cart’s wheel. The clock ticked.

Of course, the doctors told him off nicely, but in the end, Wilbur would always end up in the same chair staring at the same hospital bed with the same unconscious Tommy.

The days were long, but day often overlapped night at this point. So, time wasn’t really a minute by minute clock.

A guitar sits propped up against Wilbur’s leg, he grips the fretboard, strings straining with his touch. He’d wanted to play music, but the words never came out.

“If you wake up right now, I’ll get you the best damn steak you’ve ever had,” Wilbur mutters half-heartedly, mostly out of false hope. “It’ll be super expensive, and I’ll get you all you’ve ever wanted.”

Tommy doesn’t stir.

Wilbur wrings his hands out, eyes dry with no tears left to even think about crying. It was his fault, he dragged Tommy along the adventure, he didn’t protect him… it’s his fault that Tubbo doesn’t visit anymore.

A part of Wilbur screams at Tubbo to visit, saying that when Tommy wakes up, he’d be able to see him.

“I just want to remember him when he was laughing, I don’t think I can handle seeing him when he’s… when he’s like this.” Tubbo told Wilbur after a late night visit.

 _You’re selfish,_ Wilbur bitterly thought, taking a shaky breath. He never really meant it.

It was never meant to turn out like this, they were just looking for their dad.

Then again, when was anything going good for any of them? When did anything go according to plan? When was something not Wilbur’s fault?

“Just wake up,” Shaky breath, “It’s not that hard, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s an awful long nap you’re taking, but I get it, I get it. I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, I just want-I need you back. We need you back.”

Wilbur could imagine Tommy laughing hysterically and calling him a pussy, as weirdly endearing as it was.

But he’s going to wake up, he’s going to hop out of bed and continue on like nothing happened.

Nothing to worry about.

He’s going to be fine.

He was fine.

He is fine.

So why wasn’t he waking up for god’s sake?

Nothing good ever happens. That was until an unfamiliar person entered the room, or unfamiliar to Wilbur as Technoblade trailed behind.

“So, this is your brother? Tommy, is it?” The man wore black shades, with a fitted black suit. It was as if royalty had entered the room. The man was rather tall, sporting a deep voice.

“Yes,” Technoblade avoids any eye contact that the man may make.

Wilbur stands up, setting his guitar to the side. He sizes up the man, eyes harsh and mean. “Who are you?”

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced before, but then again Technoblade hasn’t told me about his family all that much,” He smiles, “I’m the head of REM, Eret. You might be…?”

“I’m Wilbur. I’m Techno’s twin and I couldn’t give a shit about your title.”

Eret chortles, not expecting such a response, “Nice to meet you too, Wilbur. I was just talking with your brother about where my money was being funneled. But I see that it’s for a good cause.”

Technoblade shifts on his feet, sending a glare towards Wilbur. “I’m sorry, it’s been a rough month for everyone. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it.”

“That I can’t disagree. I’d like to send my own personal condolences, if you’d like, Tommy can be moved to a private institution where he’d get only the best medical care. I wouldn’t let you pay a cent.” Eret offers, lobbing a pitiful look to Tommy.

“No, he’d make _me_ ,” Techno deadpans, shoulder slumping. “It’s coming out of paycheck, isn’t it?”

Eret laughs, “No sir, a brother of my coworker is a brother of mine. I’m happy to pay every bill in full.”

 _Well that certainly is helpful,_ Wilbur muses. “And what of visitation?”

“Any time, of course. I’d never deny someone the right to be with their loved ones. When I was a kid, my grandfather had a stroke in the middle of heart surgery. 13 hours of surgery. For four months, he was in the hospital and couldn’t walk or talk. Eventually, he died in the comforts of home. I can understand wanting to be by their side every second of the day.” Eret confides, clasping his hands together. 

_Don’t trust him._

_I won’t._

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Wilbur consoles, however, Eret pays no heed to it as he looks over to Tommy.

“He’s young, 16, isn’t he?” Eret asks, not breaking contact with Tommy’s form.

“16, he turns 17 in April.” Technoblade confirms, taking a spot next to Tommy’s bedside. He pulls a small keychain out of his pocket and clasps it between Tommy’s limp fingers.

“He’s in perfect health, I hear. It’s a wonder why he’s still… still sleeping.” Eret thinks to himself.

The heart monitor beeped steadily. “Yeah, it’s what we’re all thinking.” Wilbur muttered under his breath and sighed with a shudder. His chest weighed on him.

The room is silent as the clock ticks to itself. Wilbur clicks the off button for the clock. The ticks stop.

Eret falters, “I don’t mean to overstep anything,” He pauses, “But, I think it’d be best if there was some sort of counselor for you two. Some sort of outlet for your pent up emotions over this situation.”

A deep breath, “I think I’m fine with what I’m doing.” Wilbur gives a half glare from the side of his eyes.

“I only mean well by saying that. I understand the pain you must be going through.”

Silence.

Technoblade pulls his pulled back hair to the side, and he anxiously combs through it, lips pursing as he glanced down at Tommy’s breathing chest. Slow rise and slow fall, small breaths as quiet as a mouse.

“Sir, would it be okay if I took a break?” Technoblade queries. “I’m not sure that Schlatt would be all for my absence, but I think it’s for the best.”

“I’ll make sure it happens. Anything else?”

“I need you to make sure that Schlatt cannot do anything involving the ruins. Get him busy with something else, anything and everything you can do so that research stops.” Technoblade looks up at Eret with a stone set face of determination.

Eret creases his brows, “I take it you have some sort of plan?”

Techno nods in affirmation. “With my leave, I need access to everything within the site. Nobody can enter besides myself and a few others.”

“And what is the end game for this?”

Technoblade’s face doesn’t change in the slightest, “End game? The end game is that we know everything there is to know about it before Schlatt does.”

“You’re doing this while on break?”

Techno smiles, “Can’t say everything I will do will be legal.”

“Don’t know what to say to that,” Eret chuckles, “A moral man would report you to the police, but who said I knew anything about what’s right? Ye ask and thou shall receive.”

“How will we know if you go through with your end of the deal?” Wilbur accuses, cracking his knuckles.

“ _Will_.” Techno chastises. The former lobs an empty glare.

“No, no, that’s fair. You’ll know when Schlatt doesn’t come near you, I’ll be likely fighting him for as long as Technoblade needs. You’re not obligated to trust me, rest assured.” Eret softly smiles with kind eyes.

Wilbur looks to the side, avoiding eye contact. “Fine, but if there’s any trouble at all I’ll mount you on a wall.”

“Listen Wilbur, you got have got to stop with your violent tendencies and that’s coming from me.” Technoblade examines his nails, a slight smirk behind the curtain of pink hair.

“Oh, of course,” Wil sarcastically mumbles. “Because I’m the ‘violent’ one.”

“You threatened to kill my boss, what else am I supposed to say?” Techno laughs incredulously as Eret stepped back away from Wilbur, holding his hands in surrender.

“I’m not sure I’d like to be murdered anytime soon, so I think I’ll take my leave, unless there’s anything else you want to discuss.” Eret titters.

_He’s a liar, he’s lying about everything. He doesn’t actually care._

Technoblade lets out a deep breath, rising from his chair. He sends a deadpan over to Wilbur as he pulled his hair back into a low ponytail. “If there’s anything,” He looks at Eret, “I’ll make sure it’s a neat stack on your desk.”

“Because I totally needed more work to do,” Eret groans. “But yes, make sure you fill out a formal request. Can’t do much else undocumented before I run into trouble with some unkind government officials again.”

Technoblade grimaces, “Yeah, I remember that incident. Wasn’t particularly fun to handle.”

“Should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Well, I hear his wife divorced him,” Techno sucks in a breath, “Stress got to him or something and the rest is court documented.”

“Damn. You’re going to have to tell me about this later, I bet Jack would love to hear about this.”

“Didn’t know Jack was out of the hospital,” Technoblade straightens his posture, “I would’ve visited him.” The last was said rather stiffly.

Eret shifts, “Yes, well, he made it clear that he didn’t exactly want you there. Since… well you know. That’s definitely coming out of your paycheck.”

Techno mutely nods his head. The conversation was over.

Silence.

“Gentlemen, I’ll take my leave.” Eret dips out of the room, sending one last wave before he vanished into the hospital halls. The door shuts with a small click.

“Is there a reason you’re uptight?” Techno doesn’t turn to face Wilbur as he speaks, “It better be a good one for threatening the head of the company that’s currently paying for Tommy’s wellbeing.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Wilbur looks out the window, mirroring the way they’d been in Techno’s London office, before they got to the Americas. Except, the air was stiff and there was a severe lack of wine.

“I’m not one for pushing your buttons,” a pause, “I draw the line when you lash out. You’re not yourself.”

“It’s nothing.” Wilbur gripes, annoyance seeping into his words and his stance. Anger boiled in his stomach like a volcano, waiting for the time to finally erupt. There’s a slight shake in his legs.

It was as if Technoblade had become this parent to a child-like Wilbur. Disappointment and unprecedented antagonism. The need to go against something, the need to not follow along. And the want for something to be in order.

“You’re a grown adult, handle your emotions.”

“It’s not like you handle yours either. You can’t even speak about your own feelings without causing some sort of storm.”

Technoblade recoils, but he knows it’s true. There’s nothing he can say to that without looking like a fool, but even so, “I don’t lie about my incapability.”

Wilbur looks back over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t be the first lie you told.”

“What’s your problem?” Technoblade snaps, his shoulders tense with anxiety.

Will turns around to face Techno, anger exploding. “My problem? What’s my problem? I got dragged across the world to see some glorified village that ends up with Tommy in a hospital bed, Tubbo not coming anywhere near the door of Karl’s house, and you act like I just have to not give a shit like you?”

“Don’t act like you know anything about how I am.” Techno tries to remain as calm as he could, but the tone Wilbur was taking was infuriating.

Tears burn behind his eyes like lava, Wilbur takes a shuddering breath. “Then what am I supposed to act like? Tell me about how I’m supposed to feel, about what I should say and what I shouldn’t say like you’re my goddamn father!”

“Phil- “

“Phil doesn’t care, he doesn’t even matter anymore! I want to go home; I want to go home with my family.” Wilbur’s face flushes a deep red as Techno steels himself. As much of a family as they were, their familial bonds were being put to the test.

“We don’t have a choice, Will. We don’t get to decide what happens; we’ve never been in control. Don’t forget the time I’ve put into research about Wither bones and the fact that it could potentially kill thousands of people means I can’t go anywhere but here. Stop being selfish.”

Wilbur takes a shaky step back towards the window, lip quivering. “It’s selfish to want to have a happy family?”

“God, I want that too, but I can’t put my wants over the needs-the lives of everyone else.”

“And what if I need you? What if I need you, Techno?” pleading brown eyes cry out.

“You don’t, so quit acting like a child. I’m not our mother or our father I don’t need to baby you.”

_He’s lying to you; they’re all lying to you. He’s the reason, he’s the reason._

_I know._

“But you do anyway. You haven’t told me the whole truth; you haven’t told me anything about shit! Are you scared of me knowing the truth? Are you scared of being looked at differently? Or did you forget that pink hair dye doesn’t exactly blend in?” Wilbur motions to Techno’s hair, the latter tucks it behind his back.

“It’s out of my control and it’s not like you’re willing to spill your life secrets either.”

“If you asked me, I’d be more than willing if it meant that maybe, just maybe I’d get to have my family!” Wilbur’s eyes burn like a hot tea kettle, his intense glare glances at Tommy, “I want everything to go back to normal again, okay?”

“You haven’t been the most… receivable person, Wilbur. You said you wanted space and that’s what I gave you.”

“I never meant it; you should know me better than this!”

“Not everyone can read in between the lines dumbass! Don’t get started on that ‘you should’ve known me better’ we haven’t had a proper conversation in years,” Techno clenches his jaw. Don’t pin this on me, this is your shit you’re losing.”

Wilbur curls into himself in resignation, shoulders slump, defeated. “I fucking hate you.” His eyes didn’t quite reach the memento.

Technoblade doesn’t respond and instead he turns to face the exit door. He closes his eyes, grasping and ungrasping his hands. “I’m fine with that.”

“I hate you, you bastard. I hate you so much, I wish-I wish… I wish,” Wil’s voice cracks, “I wish you were never fucking born, then maybe, Tommy wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Can’t disagree.” Techno chuckles, never looking back to face his brother. He knew that Wilbur didn’t truly mean what he said. That’s something even someone as tone deaf as Techno can understand.

Wil shifts on his feet, “You’re not supposed to agree.”

“Wasn’t agreeing, but I’m telling you now, start watching your mouth.” Techno retorts smoothly, he spares a glance to Tommy.

Wilbur lets out a small breath, humorous as much as he could with a noise infested head, “You’re starting to be the Aaron Burr to my Hamilton.”

“Aaron Burr had a _point_.”

“So, you’re threatening me?”

“It’s a warning. Don’t twist my words, I’m merely implying to hold your tongue before you end up in a ditch. You only have one life and I’d hate to see you lose it because you couldn’t shut your trap.”

“The things I could do if we weren’t brothers, honestly fuck you.”

“If it helps you sleep better at night.”

“If only. My dreams are more traumatizing than you are, but then again, what’s the difference?”

“And that’s supposed to mean…?”

Wilbur rolls his fluttering eyes, almost as a scoff, “I had a nightmare, probably before we came to the Americas and you killed an entire subway of people. When I woke up, I was half convinced you had actually done it.”

Technoblade pauses, almost freezing his breath. He forces an airy laugh, “I’m not that violent.”

_Yes, he is._

_You had your air-time, take a step back in the stage._

_I’m right…_

Wilbur looks to the ground, “Wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Right.”

Wilbur opens his mouth, feeling a tidal wave of regret wash over him. His anger dissipated slowly from his body until it welled into his arm, the same one he’d broken as a kid. It ached. “I… I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Techno raises his eyebrows, “Alright, won’t hold it against you.”

Wil blinks, “So… so if I hadn’t said sorry you would hold it against me?” The former laughs with his stomach, humming with a high pitched voice.

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Technoblade drawls, playfulness dancing in his eyes, “I mean it would factor in…”

“God you’re a prick.” Wilbur huffs, taking a seat next to Tommy. He fixes a blanket that laid haphazardly across the sleeping teen. A small, but need breath, escapes from the exhausted older man.

There’s a slight silence, but Techno breaks the ice easily, “At least I’m a prick with the heart to not threaten the guy paying my wage, unlike someone I know.”

“At least I have the guts. Didn’t see you pinning Schlatt.” Wilbur replies, lips curving in a “gotcha” moment.

Techno squints at the former, wheels turning in his head, “Yes, that would be weird if I pinned Schlatt, I have decency.”

“Would it be better if you pinned Alex?”

“I’d rather not continue this topic.”

Tommy shifts, taking a small but bigger breath. The small movement is quickly observed by the older men. They hold their breath until Tommy continues on with his slumber. Exhale.

“Can we agree to call him Sleeping Beauty.” Wilbur tosses offhandedly.

Technoblade smiles, something he’d been doing a lot more as of late, “Sounds fair enough, it’s not like Mr. Comatose is going to have a say.”

Wilbur presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head side-to-side. “Low blow, low blow. Come after the comatose patient, sure, sure.”

Techno nods, a familiar yet distant star sparking within Wilbur’s eyes. The star of renewed laughs was all Techno wanted for Wilbur, especially during this month. Wilbur hadn’t done much to conceal the stench of alcohol on his breath or the coughing from cigars. But he was glad, for all purposes, that his brother had some sort of hope left.

There wasn’t much time before that shining star would disappear into the night, forgotten and without a name. Enjoy it while it lasts.

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**I enjoy the stars and galaxies as much the next person or maybe a little bit more. I’ve gotten to see the stars a lot more, I guess I’m grateful that I got exiled. In that cramped ravine, I thought I would suffocate before ever getting the chance to see feel fresh air. Or maybe that was just a hallucination.**

**There hasn’t been a lot that’s been real, the only things being sometimes the ground. Other times, I’m plummeting through the sky without any reason why or anything to stop it. All I can do is scream, but then I blink and somehow, I’m yards away from shore.**

**I don’t want to die per say, I just feel as though the nights are too long and of the monster were to eat me, I wouldn’t fight back.**

**I miss my friends. Or who I think are friends, I’m not sure they are anymore. I only really have one, I suppose. I guess I should say I miss my only friend.**

**So, I won’t die, just for him. I think he’d be sad or even mad if I were to… y’know. I mean, he has been really good to me and I enjoy his company. But maybe that’s because I miss people caring. And he cares.**

**I’ll look at the stars tomorrow and maybe give them names or something. I could just right them down in here. First one I’m going to name is going to be Bitchass. Or maybe like… maybe Dream.**

**-Tommy**

_[ The author was exiled to a place with open skies. Seems the only thing they’re hanging onto is the stars and a friend. Author likes the idea of affection and will cling to the only thing that reminds them of it. Maybe they pushed away friends or the exile had put a rift within friendships?]_

-0-

There weren’t many things that could truly scare Tommy in ways that would make him scream in fear. Sure, he’d scream out of comedic purposes, but none of it was really genuine.

Until he’s faced with horribly dirty and quite frankly, disfigured, doppelgänger of himself, he calls “Tommy Shitit” as a play off of a nickname he’d received from when he was younger and in school, Tommy Innit. Incredibly horrible yet humorous times.

This wasn’t funny. It was a mirror image of himself, yet so _not_. This Tommy was void of color, almost muted. Not only was he just a husk of himself, but he could blow away in the wind into dust.

Tommy faces himself with the fate of having to watch this other Tommy do whatever. Meaning, he couldn’t exactly leave before being bounced back into right back to a tree on the outskirts of the deserted town. (If you could even consider it a town, this place was a shithole.)

It’s all just a really messed up lucid dream, Tommy had concluded on the first night. Yet the first night lapped into several, before it had been a week of just observing this other Tommy.

But it’s fine, he wasn’t hungry or thirsty and clearly something was wrong with his congestive system since he didn’t need to shit. Is this luck or just signs of problems down the road?

Okay, this is sort of funny, Tommy digresses. But he really hopes that he’ll be able to shit sometime soon. This is not the mental conversation he wanted to have. Enough shitting around. That was too easy. But seriously, got to get his shit together. Sorry, sorry, continuing forward.

For some lucid dream, it felt like a millennium of time passed. And it’s only been a week. A week of extreme boredom. Sometimes Tommy would try to come up to Tommy Shitit and strike some sort of conversation, but the guy would run away.

That was, until Tommy Shitit had a friend over and something within Tommy told him to stop it.

Other Tommy’s friend, or maybe friend, would come through a dark black stone portal, sporting a porcelain white mask with a simple smiley face ingrained. It terrified Tommy beyond comprehension to see him.

But yet, Smilely, Tommy named, seemed friendly enough to this Other Tommy that surely there was nothing exceedingly wrong. Or that Tommy’s wishful thinking, when Smilely had asked Other Tommy for his things.

And Other Tommy did.

“What the fuck,” Tommy mutters under his breath, clinging to a tree as he watched the conversation unfold. “What the fuck is he doing?” A bug lands on Tommy’s hand and he shakes it away furiously.

“Tommy!” Smilely opened his arms, inviting Other Tommy for a hug. The latter grips Smilely tightly as if he were going to disappear. “You know I’m here for you, okay?”

Other Tommy nods in his embrace, mumbles something that Tommy couldn’t hear. Smilely strokes Other Tommy’s hair therapeutically, nodding along to whatever Other Tommy was saying.

“You’re real, right?” Other Tommy spoke up, just loud enough for Tommy to understand. “I’m not-you’re actually here, right?”

“Of course, I am,” Smilely tilts his head to the side, “I would never leave you alone.”

“You haven’t, or I think you haven’t, you haven’t been here for a few days. I thought-well I’m not sure, I thought you left.” Other Tommy looks up from his hug to the unnerving mask.

“Oh Tommy… I’ve been here, I’ve never left you, come on now. Do I look like the person that would leave you?”

Other Tommy shakes his head, “No, no, I know you’d never leave me. I know, I know, I just… I thought I was seeing things, y’know? I’m scared of losing you.”

Smilely is unmoving, though his body language tells a story. He takes Other Tommy into a side hug and walks into the small house that was made of oak wood. Tommy trails behind slowly, peeking behind the entrance.

“I’m your best friend, isn’t that right?” Smilely leads Other Tommy to a red cow that Other Tommy adores. Immediately he hangs onto the cow, cooing soft murmurs.

“Of course, Dream, of course you are.” Other Tommy was so sincere with his words, it almost made Tommy gag. The name, or Smilely’s name, grew a pit in Tommy’s stomach.

“And you’d never lie to me? I really hate liars,” Dream walks off a bit from Other Tommy towards the opposing wall where there was a fallen log.

“I’m not a liar, I’d never lie to you! You’re my best friend, my-my only friend really.” Other Tommy fidgets nervously, he doesn’t make eye contact with Dream, or even glance in his direction.

“That’s good, I’m proud of you kiddo.”

Other Tommy smiles, taking a shaky breath. He looks like he’d evaporate from happiness right then and there. “Thank you, thank you.”

Dream starts over to Other Tommy, stopping for a moment at the base of the small house. He grabs a shovel and starts to dig a hole. Other Tommy pays no mind, starting to talk out loud about the cow, Mushroom Henry.

That is, until Dream’s shovel hits something hard and Tommy feels a rush of adrenaline that makes him sprint out. His instincts told him to run far away, but he knew that this Other Tommy couldn’t lose the things he’d stash away.

Much to his disappointment, Tommy’s form passed through Dream like a ghost. He’s on the floor, hands dirtied by the mud. Other Tommy makes no move, only staring at Dream digging out the basement and Tommy attempting to stop him.

“What’s this?” Dream barks from the hole, snooping around in chests full of riches and some armor.

Other Tommy was as pale as a sheet, shaking like a leaf in the wind. His eyes were far away, not taking another breath. May it be the “hallucination” he saw of Tommy or Dream finding his stash, Other Tommy was petrified.

“I-no Dream I can explain- “Other Tommy squeaks through a closed throat. “Please, it’s not, it’s not what you think it is!”

“You’re a dickhead!” Tommy shouts, attempting to pick up a shovel and hit the back of Dream’s head. “Fuck off you prick! That’s not your shit!”

Dream doesn’t hear it, anger exploding from him, “You lied to me! You’re keeping stuff from me, you told me you’d never lie! What the hell is wrong with you Tommy? I trusted you!”

Other Tommy heaves quick breaths, “Please, please Dream I didn’t lie, I didn’t!”

“Tommy,” Dream’s voice boomed. Other Tommy froze, holding his breath. His mind shut down and everything around him was white noise. “Put your shit in the hole, you’re lighting the TNT.”

“What? The hell you got explosives for. That’s weird shit and you know it, you bastard!” Tommy screams at the top of his lungs, though Dream couldn’t hear. “You’re a selfish prick!”

“Stop,” Other Tommy mutters from under his breath, “It’s no use, it’s no use. Stop shouting at me _, please_.”

“Put your shit in the hole, Tommy-you’ve betrayed me! You lied! This is what you get!” Dream grabs Other Tommy’s wrist and throws him into the uncovered basement.

“Please Dream, please don’t do this,” Other Tommy pleads as he grabs the things from his pockets and throws it to the ground, “I didn’t lie to you-“

“Shut up.” Dream draws his fist back and strikes Other Tommy across the face. The latter holds his face in pain.

“Take the lighter and blow it all up, this is what you get you ungrateful child.” Dream spits, handing Tommy a lighter as he grabs a stack of dynamite and throws it to the opposite corner.

“Fuck you, you asshole!” Tommy tries to do everything he can to tackle Dream or at least throw the dynamite elsewhere (maybe in Dream’s face), however his fingers slip through anything and everything. “You’re a goddamn waste of space bastard with no life! Fuck you! Seriously, you have to stand up to this guy, goddamnit!” The last bit was directed solely towards Other Tommy.

“Please, you have to stand up for yourself. He’s a manipulative piece of shit, you can’t seriously be letting him walk all over you!” Tommy begs Other Tommy, trying to drag Other Tommy to his feet. Begrudgingly, Other Tommy rises and starts to throw photos from the chests to the higher ground above.

“Tommy,” Dream warns, moving closer. He grabs Other Tommy’s wrist and takes the lighter himself and throws it to the ground.

In a bang, Other Tommy lays on the ground, ears ringing and voices distant. He blinks away the white noise to the surrounding area. Tommy had raised his arms to protect himself from the explosion, but he experienced no pain.

Everything was in flames. As was the anger within Tommy as he watched as Dream ransacked the area, without a care or a thought about anything. Other Tommy wept, trying to pick himself up from the rubble, though the shake in his legs tore him down.

“Ple _-Please_ Dream, stop, please stop!” Other Tommy yelled out as Tommy tried to carefully calm the former.

“I’m returning in a week, and this better be picked up and you better be ready to give me your shit. You don’t get to go to the Nether and nobody is coming to help you.” Dream spits, exiting through the portal as he lit another TNT that ultimately shattered the purple entrance.

Minutes pass as Other Tommy pushes himself to his feet to see the carnage of everything around him.

“What are you doing?” Tommy pesters, attempting to soothe the clearly upset teen. “That dickhead means nothing, you can rebuild here!”

“Shut up, it’s not-it’s not worth it anymore,” Other Tommy grabs materials and starts to build a tower. Unexpectantly, Tommy was able to follow Other Tommy has he pillared to the sky “Nothing is worth it, I’m done-I’m _done_.”

Other Tommy dangles his feet over the edge of the tower, wind whipping around him as he shivered. “It’s my fault, this is my fault isn’t it?’

“I wouldn’t say that” Tommy carefully tries to rub the ash off of Other Tommy’s face, “He’s a fucking manipulator, he abused you.”

“I deserved it, I lied and got what was coming, so why am I so upset?”

“You did what was right, it was just a chance he’d hit that basement of yours.” Tommy pats Other Tommy’s back, trying to do his best at displaying affection. The ball in his throat didn’t seem to close.

Other Tommy rips his jeans even more with his lanky hands, “I lied to my best friend, my only friend.”

“Best friends don’t do that; best friends don’t hurt you or take your shit like that. You’re a fucking person, you are able to have your stuff.” Tommy slaps Other Tommy’s hand from picking.

“What do you know?” Other Tommy’s voice breaks, “Tubbo hates me, Wilbur’s dead, Ghostbur left and nobody _cares_.”

Weird lucid dream, yeah? “What about… what about Technoblade?”

“I hate him. He betrayed us-betrayed _me_. I have no one, so what’s the point anymore?”

“Cows are nice.”

“What?”

“Hm, bees are cool as well, especially when they land on your finger and don’t fucking stab you. Little shitheads… but they’re nice, you know?”

“I don’t understand.”

“And there’s music! Music is nice and makes me happy, so I’d hate to never be able to listen to music anymore. Couldn’t imagine…”

Other Tommy pauses, “I guess I’d never be able to lay in a flower field or something.”

“Or, you know, the chance that everything will work out.”

“I guess.”

“And… and well, I’d have to kill you if you ever tell him this but, I’d miss Tubbo a lot. Probably say something about how clingy I am, even though he _knows_ he’s the clingy one.”

Other Tommy sucks in a chilly breath, “But Tubbo hates me, he exiled me. I don’t have anywhere to go but here and… I can’t leave Dream.”

“Who cares? That dickhead blew your shit sky high,” Other Tommy winces, “He doesn’t matter, he’s never been your friend, never mind best friend.”

“But… but he’s the only one who ever came to see me- “

“I’ll bet 100 quid that someone tried to visit you, but that dickhead stopped them.” Tommy stands up as he pulled Other Tommy to his feet.

Other Tommy doesn’t speak or utter a single mutter, so Tommy takes the opportunity. “You know? He was just watching you. Nobody can blow my shit up and call themselves a friend, so what’s a better explanation?”

“Watching me, huh?” Other Tommy solemnly muses, his eyes burn in the back with tears. “Just watching me.”

“I bet he’s scared of you; everybody cowers before the great Tommy!” Tommy pumps his fist to the sky. “Nobody gets in our way. Say what, you jump down into the water and get the hell out of here, and then show that Dream guy who’s in charge, yeah?”

“But where do I go?” Other Tommy rubs his arm, carefully massaging a bruise.

Tommy fixes Other Tommy’s shirt on him and loosens up his scrunched up sleeves, “You go where you need to. Talking later, action now. Doesn’t matter if you don’t know ‘em or you hate ‘em, that bastard has got to pay, you hear me?”

“I don’t think I’m enough to take him down, he’ll just kill me or hurt me.”

“Slow and steady wins the race, or something like that. I don’t know, I don’t need to remember fucking nursery rhymes,” Tommy dusts off the other’s shoulders, “Got to creep up from the shadows and strike when he’s least suspecting.”

“I wish I could be like you… I’m not-I’m not like you anymore, I… I can’t-I can’t even smile right.” Other Tommy looks back to face an annoyed Tommy.

Tommy thinks for a moment, before he spots a matted part of Other Tommy’s hair and starts to untangle it with his delicate fingers. “Okay and? That doesn’t matter, I’m me and you’re you, I thought that was obvious. There can’t be two of me as fucking awesome as that’d be.”

“But- “Other Tommy starts.

Tommy watches the dust crumble from his hands as he rubbed strands of Other Tommy’s hair. “But what? Are you waiting for permission? That’s a pussy way of thinking and I’m not a pussy ‘n neither are you, prick.”

Other Tommy looks down dejectedly, pausing his breathing in nervous anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy scoffs, looking down at the ransacked place below before looking back up again with a certain amount of pity, “Piss off. Cut that bullshit, alright? There’s only one way off and it’s down, but you decide whether you die in agony or you die somewhat nicer.”

It brings a smile to Other Tommy’s face as he wipes his arm across his eyes, laughing with slight snot ball in his throat, “You’re not the best motivator.”

The teen in question just laughs, turning away from the sorrowful gaze. “I’m what you got. So… so live, okay? I have to get back to whatever is happening in the real world, and Wilbur wouldn’t like me slacking or something. You know how he is.”

Other Tommy nods, though his thoughts were training elsewhere throughout the election, that maybe he was seeing himself from the past as a way to cheer himself up. That maybe he didn’t really want to die all along, and that the Tommy he used to be was still within him, “Yeah, hope you win the election or win the war, then maybe something would’ve changed.” Hope flickered.

Tommy rolls his eyes “Whatever the fuck that means you weirdo. Go on and make your decision alright? I don’t want to see ‘GhostInnit’ or ‘Here lies Tommy, the best and biggest man there is’ anywhere, though so keep that in mind, yeah?”

“Thank you. I think I’ve made my decision then.”

“That’s some nice shit, big man. Hey, good talk, I feel better about myself already.” Tommy smiles, shaking Other Tommy’s hand firmly. The latter nods and shakes back.

“Thanks, me.”

“You’re welcome, also me.”

-0-

**Date, unknown.**

**I’m going to live and I’m going to fight. I’m packing my things as I’m writing, I plan to travel far until I reach an old enemy (though I wish he weren’t) Until then, the only way that I can be somewhat better, is if I cut my attachment to this place. It wasn’t the best run, but a run, nonetheless. I’m somewhat thankful Dream blew up this place, as shitty as it was in the moment, but at least now I know what he was truly doing here.**

**Dream is scared of me; he was only watching me to keep me in order. And hell, I complied. And now I’m paying the price. I have to move forward; I can’t stop now. I got a pep in my step now, I’m _hopeful_.**

**I know that there won’t be a time for me to settle down since I have to keep fighting. I’m used to it, I can manage. I just need a quick breath and now I need to resume. Not that war is a game, it’s that even the big guy that I am needs a break. Right? ~~What would Wilbur say?~~**

**I’m not a puppet or a pawn, I’m a fucking person. I’m… I’m a kid.**

**\- Big T**

-0-

Train tracks sputter to life as the gentle murmurs of conversations amount to fill his ears with simple indifference. The guitar rests on his back shoulders comfortably, nestled with the flowing of the large parka. He blinks back into reality, inhaling a small chilly breath that made his teeth ache.

Wilbur Soot stares up at the small monitor, glancing over the times with lazy eyes. There’s a moment, a feeling that occurs, that makes him glance over his shoulder for a second.

He locks eyes with a porcelain mask, a familiar yet far away feeling strikes him like lightning. Is it fear? Is it hate? Admiration? Nonetheless, the man donning the mask steps beside Wilbur.

“Hello, Wilbur.” A voice speaks, muffled by the wall of mask. His body is sturdy and doesn’t make any movement nor any sign of life really.

Wilbur looks to the side, clenching his jaw. A name is on the tip of his tongue and he’s losing it fast. “Hello… Dream.” Dream tilts his head to the side, though he doesn’t face Wilbur in the slightest.

“I can’t believe you remember me, even after all these years.”

The words spill out thickly, “I don’t really remember you; I-I just know you can help me.”

“Can I?” Comes the inquisitive yet inevitable question. Wilbur stiffens in his shoes, the parka he’s wearing burns his skin in an instant. With every passing moment, the air drops in temperature, still Wilbur remains hot as the blazing sun.

“You… you’ve helped me before, and you can help me again.” Wilbur drums his fingers against the trap of his guitar case. The murmurs of other conversations become louder.

“Yes, I remember something along those lines,” Dream scratches his mask as if he were to scratch his face, “Yet, last, I remember, things didn’t end well for you. What’s to say it won’t happen again?”

Wil releases another short breath, his brain providing words, “I’m not totally sure, I guess. I can’t exactly recall everything, but I know you know something that I need to know.” Dream hums in agreement, clasping his lanky fingers together.

“Yes… I suppose I do have something you want. However, I’m not sure you’re ready to have it, as much as I’d like to give it to you.”

Wilbur inhales, closing his eyes in concentration. Images of fire flicker, of explosions and war. Bloodied fingers and slit necks. Blood consuming his vision, overlapping with the screams and cries of others around him.

“I’m ready, I know I am.”

Noise fills Wilbur’s ears as Dream speaks, “You think you’re ready to know the Truth?”

Clarity. “Will the Truth save my brothers?”

Dreams cracks his knuckles, almost as if he were to be human of some sort. A voice tells Wilbur that Dream is everything but human, “That is for you to find out. I haven’t spoken the Truth in far too long, who’s to say I even know what it is? That I’ve lied so many times that I’ve lied to myself?”

“I know you do. You’re the reason why I’ve been having these nightmares aren’t you? You’re the reason why Techno is suffering, and Tommy doesn’t have a father figure.” Wilbur sounds confident, though his voice is shaky as he speaks.

“Am I now?”

A nod of confirmation, a squeeze of a case strap. “Yes, I know you are. I’d never have as realistic dreams as the ones I’ve been having, ones where I can’t differentiate reality from fantasy. I’m losing myself in my own mind that I’m scared that I’ll hurt someone I care for.” Background conversations become quiet and reserved, almost as if the world were allowing their conversation to be heard.

Dream shows no sign of listening, though Wilbur feels eyes burning holes in his face, “Are you familiar with the story of Icarus? Greek, I believe.”

Inhale, “Vaguely.”

“Icarus flies to close to the sun with his wax and feathered wings and ends up dead in the ocean.” Wilbur starts to remember bits and pieces, “Moral of the story is don’t get too confident before your wax wings melt or else, you’ll be punished with a fate worse than death—not being able to live the life you were promised and not being able to blame anyone but yourself.”

And it terrified Wilbur, “Why are you telling me this.”

“Your wax wings have already melted.”

“So… so this is all my punishment. I can’t live a normal life because of something I did? What did I do?” His hand falls from the case strap to his side, he exhales in defeat.

Dream hums lowly, annoyance flickering in his stature, “I suppose you wouldn’t remember, but your brothers are close to the Truth and when they find out… everything will wash away.”

“Then what do I do? What can I do to stop it, I want nothing more than for peaceful life-it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Wil wrings his hands, calmly acknowledging the lack of feedback from the small voices.

“I can extend my help; however, I cannot change your fate, only prolong it for as long as I can. It is inevitable that you will face your punishment. I fully intend on the safety of your brothers, whether I directly help you or not, though keep me satisfied and there will be nothing that can come in my way of help you...” Dream pronounced each syllable as he stroked the chin of his mask.

“Am I making a deal with the devil?” he laughs, “What do I have to do for you? Surely there’s something you need of me.” It weighs on his shoulders that there could be something unmanageable that he would have to do in order to prove something-anything.

A train passes by the station as the terminal voice booming over the speakers. There’s shuffling of moving bodies moving to the beat of the low but pop music. The train comes to a halt, train door opening up.

Dream steps forward onto the subway, turning his head to the side, “All I want from you is complete obedience.” His figure is soon lost to the mountain of people that flood in and Wilbur is left standing in a half empty station.

Thoughts overcame Wilbur, as he watched the train start to roar to life, tracks spinning with a furious start.

There’s no real explanation for how Wilbur could’ve known all that he had said, but his mind had supplied him with the necessary memories, or feelings, to begin to converse. It was weird and frightening, knowing the sense of dread that came with the departure and arrival of Dream. Perhaps, the world had turned upside down, but Wilbur was the only one facing upright.

Pieces of the puzzle were slowly clicking together, one by one, and it was only inevitable that the last piece would be placed, and Wilbur would finally understand the bigger picture. But he wasn’t ready to understand, or maybe he didn’t want to understand.

All good things must come to an end eventually, the monumental anxiety that came with the future of disaster was only fair.

Wilbur exhales softly, gripping the soft fabric of his parka, before wearifully glancing about. His mind ached for a familiar face, anyone could do-anyone that could tether him to the ground really.

_You did something wrong and now everyone’s paying for it… I couldn’t live with myself._

_Go ahead then. It’s not like I need you._

_I’m all you have. The only one who understands._

_You’re just me, you’re not all you make yourself up to be._

_I’m not just you, I’m the true you. I’m as Wilbur as Wilbur gets._

_Without me, you cease to exist. Shut the fuck up, alright?_

_Really? The concept of you surpasses your lifetime. The one who rises only to fall from grace. I’m here to change that._

The train whistles as Wilbur absentmindedly steps aboard, the walls slowly closing in.

_Am I nothing more than a pawn?_

-0-

“Am I doing the right thing Karl?”

( _Am I the bad guy?_ )

Karl looks up from his laundry folding, to glance at the awkward Wilbur who stands in the doorway. Karl smiles warily, “Why wouldn’t you be, that’s implying you’re doing something bad.”

“I just… I don’t know, I don’t think I’m doing enough for Tommy.” Wilbur confides slowly, leaning against the doorframe with a heavy heart. He grips his wrist tightly, nails digging into his skin. His jaw is tightly clenched.

“You’re doing what you can. There’s not much we can do, y’know? It’s not like it’s your fault he’s in this position.” Hands drift over clothing gently, folding.

“Maybe… I’m sorry for springing this on you suddenly man, I just- “Wilbur sucks in a chilly breath, his hand falls to his side. Karl looks up, sparing a worried smile for the former.

“Don’t worry about it, you can talk to me anytime you need. It’s hard times, I get it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I will.” Wilbur leaves, steps fading from earshot. The click of the door is barely audible. Karl sighs against his chair, rubbing his exhausted eyes. It seems as though the estranged family that Karl was housing wasn’t the only ones suffering from late nights.

Safe to say, it was stress central at the Jacob’s residence. With the sudden hospitalization of Tommy, Techno’s job taking him further away, Tubbo withdrawing, and Wilbur… well Wilbur spiraling, the sense that Karl wasn’t in on some big secret was dreadful.

But it wasn’t as if he had his own secrets that he wouldn’t tell them. It wasn’t new that Karl had nightmares of his own, but the string like attraction he had to some abandoned village was growing taunt. His chest itched with the urge to go back.

Karl had to swallow it for now, there was no real time he had that he could spare on something like this. It was minuscule in the greater picture. Right?

So, to the mental trash can it was. Forget it, don’t worry about, just try to continue on with the day. Except there was an empty spot in his heart, like there was just something missing.

And man was it hard to concentrate on anything until that spot was filled. By some string of fate did he want to search; to find something or someone to cure the vacancy. A name, or multiple, was at the tip of tongue, until it slips away.

Forget it, doesn’t matter, there’s more pressing matters, right? It’s not like he can just fuck off and do whatever his head told him to while his friends suffer. The thought of abandoning the family was everything Karl didn’t want to do.

So… so forget it. Karl has to work, do his job and all. Just look at some ancient notes and then he can hopefully grab some shut eye. Sleep is a wonderful thing isn’t it? Especially when you lose yourself in a reality far from your own in order to escape the slowly decaying mentality that you indefinitely have.

Karl throws the rest of his laundry to the side, resigning to his desk. He flips the lamp on and clicks a pen.

Okay, yeah, just get through these few journals and he’ll be done for the evening. For what it’s worth, he hopes Technoblade would be satisfied with his oddly acquired job. Granted, Techno was the one to reach out to him wordlessly, but Karl really was confused with this.

Maybe it was something along the lines of “Hey Karl, the smartest, most intelligent person I know, can you please help a poor fellow like me decipher these journals? I know you must have so much going on, but I’m on my knees begging for your assistance in this taxing job! Please Karl! Please!” ( _“Poor people aren’t human!”_ )

That’s… that’s unlikely.

But sure, Technoblade, whatever you say. Of course, he’ll listen and do whatever you want him to just because you said! ( _Something tells him it wasn’t the first time Technoblade was in complete control._ )

No matter, it doesn’t matter, it’s truly just whatever. Right? But his heart ached in a way that told him to run, or to scream for help whenever Techno was around. Like he was a threat. Sure, he’s intimidating and all, but his eyes were terrifying.

( _“Sheriff, are you sure?”_ … “ _Yes_.”)

“What side were you actually on? Last I checked, you fought for Manburg… I can’t trust you, I’m sorry.” A far away voice coughs, Karl snaps his neck to the side in an instant, hands rigid. Time seems to slip between his fingers like water.

And there someone stood, and he was standing as well. When was he standing? When did he go outside? Who?

“Sorry, what?” Karl exhales with a bated breath. He locks eyes with a shorter man dressed in a pair of sweats. He wore a beanie, hair sticking to his forehead. A name for the man is a needle in the haystack.

“Are you serious? Don’t tell me you forgot.” The man repeats slowly. Karl was more confused on why or how he got here. As far as Karl was aware, he wasn’t dreaming and if he was… it was too real.

“I don’t-uh, sorry. Where am I?” Karl stutters out, swallowing. He looks around, only to see a crater with people swarming the area with building materials. Smoke was all around and there were some people putting out fires. It was completely unfamiliar nor was it the place his heart wanted to be.

The other man sucks in a shaky breath, taking Karl’s hand in his own. Karl retracts his hand, much to the man’s surprise.

“I’m sorry-I don’t… I don’t know you, um, man. And I’m not sure if I have my socks on, so y’know I just uh…” Karl looks anywhere but the man’s searching eyes.

“It’s me, you know me, I’m Quackity come on! This isn’t funny man, this is serious.” Quackity supplies, the puzzle pieces slowly start to piece together. Karl’s mind starts to form and erase a new life. Something in him drifts away.

“Right, right, Quackity, sorry not the time, right.” Karl rambles on, laughing nervously. He scratches the back of his head, looking over the crater he knew was L’Manburg or New L’Manburg.

“No, no I’m pretty sure I fought for Pogtopia, you must’ve got it wrong. I’m a good guy, no worries, no worries.” He did fight for L’Manburg right? Wait, what was he doing? ( _You’re straying from the path…_ )

“Are you okay?” Quackity hesitantly reaches for Karl’s shoulder, the latter leans into the touch. This is familiar, and welcoming.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it, was just playing with you. Sorry about that, not the right time, I know, I know.”

“Okay… I don’t like that joke, dipshit. Far too many amnesiacs here.” Quackity mutters under his breath, huffing. Karl’s lips twitch with a smile, a laugh in the back of his throat. That reminds Karl, shouldn’t he make sure Party Island was okay? It’d suck if it were destroyed…

“Didn’t think you had something against amnesiacs, _Big Q_ ,” Karl sneers humorously. Quackity gawks, slightly offended by the remark.

“No, no, no don’t push this false fucking narrative, I don’t hate amnesiacs,” Quackity denies repeatedly, “I just think they’re annoying to deal with.”

“So, if I were to suddenly lose all my memories, you wouldn’t take care of me? Wow, some fiancé you are…” Karl walks further over the hill, soaking in the sun. He brushes his hair out of his face, looking back at the former. “What the honk dude?”

“I’ll punt you across this fucking crater!” Quackity cackles, tailing Karl as he attempted to run.

“Okay shorty, whatever you say!” Karl calls back over his shoulder. “If your legs can even keep up!”

Quackity yells incoherent swears, tackling Karl by the legs. They fall down to the grassy earth and lay there for a while. The sun casts a shadow over them, sparing a few gulps of coldness from the hot climate.

A voice inside of Karl’s voice quietly persists that he get up and start moving, though Karl couldn’t figure out why. He needed to be here, that this is where he’s loved, where he belongs. Despite this, the voice nags.

Time slipped by, ever moving, so maybe the voice was just caught up in the past. Sure, there were many things happening that Karl may get confused but… but this is peace. Perhaps the happiest time of his life.

Even if Karl’s inner workings were concerned with something about Wilbur (of all people? Why him? He’s dead.) it’s not like there was anything he could do. Wilbur was dead, not in trouble. Well, Karl condemns, death is quite troublesome. Or troublesome for someone who didn’t want to die. (Wilbur wanted to.)

“If I went senile all of a sudden, you’d be there, right?” Karl queries.

“You’re old, but not that old, jeez. ‘Course I’d be there, I’m the most competent, not to mention, the most attractive.” Quackity rolls his eyes, shifting in the embrace.

“Nice, nice,” Karl laughs airily, though Quackity didn’t know why it was funny, “Just making sure.”

Karl had already forgotten that he had failed to remember Quackity. And he didn’t remember when he even got to this hill, he just was there. Did he have papers to do? He definitely had something to do that wasn’t cloud watching.

It didn’t matter. He was with Quackity and that’s all that really matters anyways. He’s home.

-0-

**Date, unknown**

**Though I don’t understand why I’m here, or why I’ve come to be or how. I sense great importance in books. Books tell stories, books tell of realities that aren’t my own, and most of all, books are a legacy. I want to have a legacy, something that is mine and mine only. I only fear that my story will collect dust on a shelf, and there will be no one to remember me by. It will be as if I never existed. Many have this fear, I am no different.**

**I don’t understand why I’m alone in a library. I don’t recall coming, but I love this place. I can read of heroes and myths, or of somber love. Being a hero sounds tough, but I’d quite like to be able to help someone.**

**Maybe I want to be helped. Maybe I want a hero to save me. Someone that tells me that everything will turn out okay. Books have told me of family, but I don’t remember having a family and if I did, I can’t imagine they loved me.**

**That’s okay. I will be my own hero… and my own villain. I don’t want to be a villain, but to define good, there has to be the polar opposite to compare. Since I’m alone, I’d have to fill those roles individually. I don’t like picking sides and for the reason that I believe there’s never true evil.**

**The story of the boy that watched his world crumble, his friends dying in front of him. A curse manifested, the curse of the burden of the world. Then he went on to live forever.**

**The curse, I believe, was the curse of humanity. The hero had been too boisterous, that he believed himself to be a god among mortals. Then, he felt the truth of life, that is that everything must come to an end. Just as one can define good and evil, there is life and death.**

**The story is not finished and there is a reason why. The hero has not reached the end of his story, so he is still alive.**

**So… since he has clearly surpassed the life of a mortal, does that mean he is a god? Or is his existence a mere reminder of punishment of tempting fate? He is a manifestation of what the masses desire.**

**He is man kind’s True Dream.**

**And I want to be him.**

**-Author, unknown.**

-0-

“What do you believe time is? What do you think brings importance to it? Is it that there is no way to alter it and use it to our advantage, or is that time is simply out of our control and that intrigues us? Time is a simple concept, so why isn’t it understood? Everything is moving, and to reverse would need complete control. Time is the true god. Time controls who lives and who dies.

“So why are we persistent on going back? There is no simple way to comprehend the amount of power it would take to be able to become fate itself; to weave the threads that bind us to a lifetime of memories. I, for one, will not stand for my life to be a mere needle in a haystack, if it means that those I love will eventually succumb to the tides of life and death.

“I’ve seen death in many forms, and I wish only for the chance to be able to rewind. But alas, fate is not up to me. There is someone unraveling the tapestry that is the universe and tearing it down. A mistake, a knot, a simple discrepancy that will cost the string weaver time.

“Someone, or something is making the hands that tie fate slip. Someone that is creating these other realities in which just one person doesn’t exist. Before we know it, our universe may have to be reset.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Tommy has yet to wake up a month after Wilbur comes to consciousness. Wilbur had since spiralled into a depression as Tubbo refrains from visiting since he doesn't want to have to remember Tommy being in that state. Technoblade brings his boss, Eret, into the hospital room where Eret offers Wilbur that he can supply Tommy with the best medical insight there is. Wilbur is clearly untrusting, going as far as to threaten Eret of Tommy is hurt. After Eret leaves the room, Wilbur and Technoblade have an argument. Wilbur confides to Techno that he had "dreamt" that Techno had killed a subway of people. In another reality, Tommy is faced with another version of himself, that strikes a chord when the Other Tommy is abused. When Other Tommy pillars high into the sky, Tommy encourages this version of himself to live. The Other Tommy agrees to carry on. Far away, Wilbur is waiting for the train, when he meets a familiar face, or familiar mask rather. Wilbur pulls together some lost memories of "Dream", someone who had helped him with what could be lifetimes ago. The two converse, speaking on the Truth. Wilbur negotiates with Dream in favor of his brother's safety. Dream leaves Wilbur to his thoughts. Some time passes as Karl is posed with the question of "Am I doing the right thing?" by Wilbur, who hasn't revealed much of his thoughts to the former, but chooses to seek comfort. Karl gives the best help he could with what little information he had. After Wilbur leaves, Karl finds himself needing to do a sort of homework given to him from Technoblade himself. He is warped into another reality that is confusing, yet familiar. Karl meets Quackity who asks him about what side he's on. While the question is confusing in the moment, Karl's memory supplies him with a lifetime of memories. Karl soon forgets who he was, or from what time he's from.
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit smaller, I unfortunately lost one of my beloved chickens recently so super sorry!! Bare with any spelling mistakes, haha. ALSO I JUST REALIZED THE FIRST AND SECOND CHAPTER GOT SWITCHED ????


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